


The Early Years

by Aida



Series: The Hobbit of Ered Luin [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Animal Violence, Bullying, Child violence, Crushes, Fluff, Gen, Hinted Bullying at least, Hurt/Comfort, Most violence occurs in later chapters, Papa!Thorin, Past Child Abuse, all the family feels, wee!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:43:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 31,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/Aida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlets chronicling many familiar dwarrows and their reactions upon meeting Bilbo.</p><p>Also, Thorin is a possessive papa bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dwalin and Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Dwalin meeting Bilbo for the first time~

Dwalin stared. Outright, openly _stared_. 

He knew it was rude, and his mother had taught him better, but he couldn’t help it. Truly, he had been staring since Thorin answered the door when he went to visit his friend and shield brother. He didn’t stare at Thorin, oh no. He stared at the child he had in his care. 

It was a hobbit, Thorin had said. A young one that he had found in the woods when he went scavenging for Kíli’s arrows. A boy who needed healing, and in more ways than just the physical ones. 

The hobbit, Bilbo, was rather timid. Shy, even. Dwalin had only glanced at those big green eyes for only seconds before they ducked away to hide in Thorin’s tunic. 

He had no idea why Thorin was keeping him around. He knew Thorin’s patience and how thin it was, particularly with outsiders. Yes, he had a soft spot for children, but he had his limits. It seemed, however, that Bilbo Baggins was the exception. For Thorin only smiled at him when he had chatted with them when really Dwalin was there to talk business. Only chortled when Bilbo inadvertently made a rather large mess. Surely, after having the child be a constant presence in his life, Thorin would be at his wit’s end. But he wasn’t. In fact, he was happy to have the child’s attentions. It was as if the hobbit was Thorin’s own. 

Now, Dwalin could see why he was called over. Thorin, the scoundrel, had tricked him. His “business talk” had turned into a request for Dwalin’s _babysitting_ services whilst he would be away in a week’s time. Apparently, he didn’t want Bilbo to leave him, and he certainly didn’t want to drag the poor boy off to find work in other villages. That, and with his sister’s hands full with her own children who acted even younger than Bilbo’s own age, he turned to Dwalin. 

Currently, he was being put through a trial, watching the boy as he played outside whilst Thorin made dinner (his cooking skills had improved immensely since he took Bilbo in, or at least that was what Dwalin had smelled). 

He hated babysitting. He liked children, that wasn’t the problem. But having to be forced to watch over them for an extended period of time found to be terribly detrimental to his health. Thorin’s “precious” nephews taught him that. He was bald for a reason, after all. 

But it was strange, for Bilbo wasn’t running around, screaming, like his head had been cut off. Instead, he just sat in the grass, a small smile on his tiny face as he handled a large bundle of flowers, twisting and tying the strands to create a chain of some sorts. 

It was almost as if the child himself had no idea what to do in their situation.

Dwalin frowned, for children weren’t meant to just sit like this. Not all the time, at least. They were meant to run and be free. To feel free. He was a child himself, once, as Balin loved to remind him. But he had a feeling this was why Thorin wanted Dwalin to go through with this trial. To see if he could bring the boy out of his shell just as easily as he could, especially if Thorin wouldn’t be around.

Working up a little courage, Dwalin eventually walked over and sat some distance away from Bilbo, causing the child to look at him with those eyes before quickly turning back to what he was doing. 

“So…” He muttered. “What are you making?”

Bilbo seemed to fidget, glancing shyly towards him. “Flower chains.”

“Flower chains?” He parroted, and the boy nodded quickly. 

“Just… tying flowers together.” He muttered. “I’m trying to make it long enough for a crown.”

“That seems… nice.” Dwalin answered. “It looks nice, anyway.”

A small smile flickered on his face. “Th-Thank you.”

Dwalin grinned as well, watching Bilbo work a little while longer before he decided to ask, “Can you teach me?”

Bilbo blinked up at him. For a moment, Dwalin worried that he scared the poor boy. Instead, he sent him another small smile. “O-Okay.”

**xxx**

Thorin stood by the table, set with plates, utensils, and most importantly, food that at least looked edible. He had gotten better at it over the years, and worked harder at it since he took Bilbo in, so he had some faith in himself and his sister’s detailed instructions.

He just hoped his sister didn’t mess up anything on her end, or he’d be screwed. 

Satisfied, he headed for the back door, prepared to call the two over to eat (he was making Dwalin watch Bilbo, so he had to at least feed his friend). Just as he was about to open the door, he froze.

Dwalin was sitting on the ground with Bilbo, a wreath of flowers on his head as the young hobbit seemed to be instructing him on making one of his own. He never thought he would see Dwalin wearing flowers, let alone working with them, but the most surprising part of it all was that Bilbo was instructing Dwalin in said dwarf’s lap, looking completely comfortable with his situation.

Thorin was nothing short of impressed. It had taken him weeks before Bilbo felt comfortable with being hugged or picked up without always tensing or flinching away. Yet Dwalin had the boy in his lap in just a couple of short hours. And Bilbo seemed happy, looking not at all forced to be in such a position.

He felt a little jealous, because Bilbo had trusted Dwalin easily enough for such an act, and yet it had taken ages for him to reach that level himself. He wondered if Bilbo liked Dwalin more. That he would want to live with him instead.

Before he could glare to heavily through the window, though, he paused for thought. He wondered if Bilbo trusted Dwalin because Thorin trusted him. Or that he got used to the idea that dwarrows were not cruel like his relatives were, and started to trust others more quickly and easily. 

He knew it was foolish to think such things, but Bilbo was _his_ boy. His little flint that he found and took in. The little fauntling that, he hoped, would be a part of his family for the rest of his days.

In the end, he was just glad that Bilbo was smiling and at peace in his friend’s lap.

Even so, he felt no shame whatsoever with breaking their reverie and calling them in.

Bilbo was _Thorin’s_ boy, after all. Dwalin could easily get his own.


	2. Training and Cousins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli and Kíli are little shits.
> 
> That's basically it.

“Do we have to train?”

“Yes.”

“But we trained yesterday!”

Thorin fought the urge to roll his eyes at his nephews, Kíli in particular. He had thought that, since they had grown passed playing with “little kids” (Gimli being the exception because “that didn’t count”), they wouldn’t be so distracted by Bilbo, the hobbit he had taken in some time ago. Of course, he was a hobbit, someone who wasn’t always seen near mountains, so he had a feeling their curiosity would be a little piqued, but not much. Just an acknowledgement and nothing more.

Unfortunately, Thorin tended to be wrong on some occasions, and he was quite wrong now. 

Fíli at least, had some restraint. He’d look over at Bilbo, who played some distance away and would sometimes watch, and he’d wring his hands a little and have a small spark in his eyes, but that was all. He didn’t push, didn’t whine, and didn’t pout. Kíli, who was the most adamant in not wanting to play with “little kids”, however, _did_.

He couldn’t deny that it was nice, and perhaps a little sweet, that they wanted to spend time with Bilbo. That perhaps Bilbo could finally find someone a little closer to his age to play with, who _wanted_ to play with him, and they were someone Thorin felt somewhat comfortable with. But they needed to train, and since Dwalin was currently preoccupied, such responsibilities fell onto his shoulders. 

Still, he pressed, “And you need to train today.”

Kíli frowned. “But we’ve been _really_ good!” He rebutted. “Even Mister Dwalin said we were ‘exceeding expectations’!”

“And you also missed out on your other lessons.” Thorin chided. “This is your punishment.”

“Er…” Fíli muttered as Kíli huffed. “I didn’t.”

Thorin frowned, because his oldest nephew was right. It was one of the few times that the brothers hadn’t done something together. Of course, Fíli wasn’t one to run off at the sight of one of Balin’s apprentices, who was a sweet boy, but not an excuse to neglect duties. 

Perhaps, then, they should separate in this endeavor as well. If only to teach his youngest a lesson.

“Very well,” Thorin stated. “Fíli, you are free to join Bilbo if he permits it.”

Kíli squawked in indignation as Fíli grinned broadly and rushed to join the little hobbit, taking care to not just toss his practice sword aside and putting it far away and out of harm’s reach.

“Uncle!” Kíli whined. “That’s not fair!”

“You played yesterday,” He rebutted. “Now you must train.”

Then Kíli used them: His big brown eyes, which he widened and made tearful. A true wide-eyed plea. He even threw in a wibbling lip. 

All children, it seemed, had this ability. Even Bilbo had utilized such a face from time to time, now that he was more comfortable. More trusting. Now Kíli was using so he could get out of training so he could play with Bilbo. 

It was frustrating, moreso on the fact that it was working.

“Alright, but wait!” Thorin called before Kíli could run too far. His nephew frowned as he gestured to the target some distance away. “First, you have to hit that target. Only then will you be free to play.”

Kíli only hesitated for a few brief moments before readying an arrow and doing just that. 

Thorin was both proud and frustrated with Kíli, who had immediately ran off to play with his brother and Bilbo before he could say anything on the matter.

**xxx**

“Is he our new cousin?”

Thorin looked at Kíli as he stood outside the room he had just left. The room that had become Bilbo’s for as long as he wished to stay. After a filled with playing with his rambunctious nephews, it was no surprise to Thorin that he was so tired that Bilbo allowed him to carry him to bed. 

Eventually, he noticed that his nephew was fidgeting under his gaze. “Pardon?”

“Is he our new cousin?” Kíli repeated. “I mean Bilbo. Is Bilbo our new cousin?”

Thorin could hardly believe his ears, and he was a little touched at the question. He thought his nephews would react to Bilbo as they would any new thing they encountered: A short burst of wild interest before immediately neglecting them. And it had been days since they first met Bilbo, far past the typical period of their interest, and now they were asking if Bilbo was family. 

He swallowed, because he wanted to tell them that yes, Bilbo was their cousin. That he was family. But the young hobbit hadn’t made any sort of inclination as to wanting to make his stay a permanent one. Thorin had no idea how long it would be until he wanted to leave, or one of his relatives would come looking for him to try and take him back (and Bilbo might actually _want_ to return).

Thorin decided to be careful with his words. “Technically, he isn’t.” He explained. “Originally, he was only supposed to stay until he had recuperated…”

Kíli’s face had fallen, so he pressed on. “But I would like him to be.” He continued. “I would very much like for him to be your new cousin. For you, and your brother.”

“Then why not let him be?”

They looked over and saw Fíli with his head peering over at them.

“If you want him to be, why not just let him?” His eldest nephew continued. “It’s not that hard, is it?”

“I’m afraid it is.” Thorin answered. “I do not know if Bilbo wants to return to his home, or to go somewhere else. Just as much as I don’t know if he wants to stay and be a part of this family. I cannot make him choose us, even though I want him to be. Even if I already consider him a part of this family, I don’t know if Bilbo feels the same way.”

“Can’t we just-?” Kíli began, but his brother cut him off with a frown, now fully stepping into the hall.

“Wait,” He said, scowling. “If he doesn’t want to be a part of our family, what would happen?”

Thorin didn’t want to think about that. “He would leave, possibly without my knowing.”

“But he can’t do that!” Kíli cried. “He’s so small! He wouldn’t last a day-!”

“He did before.” Thorin cut in sadly. “That is how I found him, after all.”

“Then he can’t do it again!” Fíli stated. “No matter what, he can’t leave us!”

“He can if he so wishes,” He explained to his nephews, halting their protests with a hand. “So long as I am with him. Such things have already been discussed.”

There was silence, disbelief on his nephews’ faces as they processed what he said. 

“Why?” Kíli asked. “Why would you agree to such things?”

Thorin let out a shuddering breath, grasping his nephews’ shoulders firmly and looking them in the eyes as his own burned. “Because, as much as I want him to be your cousin, as much as I want him to be my boy as you two are,” He replied, feeling his cheeks go wet. “I only want him to be happy, and he might not be happy here as a part of our family, as much as I wish he might be.”

Fíli’s and Kíli’s eyes were wide at the sight of their uncle crying, for such a sight was a rare thing. But they saw how red his eyes were, how his jaw clenched, and they saw how his calm, majestic demeanor crumbled at the mere thought that the hobbit didn’t want to be family to them. Immediately, they moved to hug their uncle, who embraced them tightly in return, sniffling a bit themselves.

“He wants us, uncle.” Kíli told him. “I’m sure of it.”

Thorin laughed, but it was watery and flat. “I can only hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You think that's it for the feels, right?
> 
> Well, I'M AFRAID THEY HAVE JUST BEGUN!!! -Laughs and cries hysterically.-


	3. Sisters and Milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dís meets Bilbo.
> 
> It could've been better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On top of asking me to continue this and everything, many of you asked for me to go into depth about "the milk incident".
> 
> This is it.

Dís always knew her brother was a bit eccentric. He always had mad ideas and spurts of genius that would usually end horribly and perhaps with an explosion of sorts. 

This, however, seemed to take the cake.

“What is he?” She had asked once it had ventured out of the room under Thorin’s smiling gaze. Said smile had morphed to a frown at her words as he sent Dís a look.

“Bilbo,” Thorin stated, repeating the little one’s name once again. “Is a hobbit. He’s been under my care since I found him in the woods.”

“And you just… took him in?”

“Yes.”

Dís let out a tired sigh, massaging her temples. “Thorin, you know children are not pets!” She informed him. “You cannot just pick one up and declare him yours! His parents are probably looking for him, you know!”

“His parents have passed-.”

“-And he might have people out there who are his guardians, and they might also be-!”

“They _abused_ him, Dís.” Thorin finally managed to hiss out, causing her lips to thin. “You did not see the marks on him. They treated him like an animal, and he ran away because of it!”

Dís sighed through her nose. “You don’t know if that’s a common practice for hobbits or not.” She told him. “Heaven knows that our father had similar treatment.”

“And he swore to never treat us that way.” Thorin argued, trying to control his voice, as Bilbo was in the kitchen and not far from hearing range. “There is no excuse to beat a _child_ to the point where they bleed. I cannot believe you would dare to defend such behavior!”

“I’m not defending it! The Maker himself knows what I would do if anyone tried to do that with my boys!” Dís defended. “I’m just saying that others don’t share such a belief, and that you aren’t thinking this through. As usual.”

Thorin stiffened. “Are you saying I am not fit to be a father?” He asked, tone dark. “That I’m not, even though I’m practically one to my nephews?”

“I’m saying you are being reckless! We all have our responsibilities, our burdens, and yet you wish to throw another innocent child into the mix?” She argued. “We already share the responsibility of feeding two bellies besides our own, and you wish to add a third?”

Thorin’s eyes widened as he clenched his fists. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that we already have two boys. Boys of our blood-.”

“Of _your_ blood-.”

“And yours!” Dís hissed. “Two are plenty enough to make you feel content, and yet you are greedy for more!”

“I am greedy for a boy of my own!” He snarled, standing from his seat. “One that I can call my son! I love Fíli and Kíli, but can I not have a child of my own, of my sole care? Or are you too selfish and cruel to think I do not deserve the happiness you have had with such a gift?”

“If you want your own children so badly, then find a woman to be your child bearer!” Dís hissed angrily as she stood herself. “Do not just take in an outsider like they are a stray dog!”

“If you dare to speak one more word like that about Bilbo,” Thorin stated darkly. “I will force you to leave.”

Dís sputtered, trying to think of words that would make her brother see reason, but they were interrupted by a crash from the kitchen. Both siblings froze, looking at each other, before rushing to the kitchen to see what had transpired.

It was a mess.

There was glass and milk all over the floor, clearly from the bottle Thorin had bought earlier that day. Bilbo was in the center, tears in his eyes and whimpering as he was scrambling to clean it with his bare hands, swirling the milk with hints of red and pink.

Upon their entry, Bilbo had frozen, and Dís had never seen a child look more terrified.

“I-I’m sorry!” He cried, his entire body trembling. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do this! I just-! I just wanted a glass, and I thought I had-!”

“Bilbo, Bilbo, it’s alright!” Thorin assured, easily stepping around the glass and taking the hobbit’s small hands in his own, seeing the cuts there and frowning. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“It-It’s fine, I swear! I’ll clean it up! I’m almost done! I swear, I didn’t mean to do this!” Bilbo sobbed. “Just give me more time! I promise I’ll have it all cleaned up, and I’ll get more! I promise! Just please-!”

Thorin shushed softly at him, pulling the boy out of the milk and into his arms. He stood, all the while holding Bilbo close as the boy sobbed into his shoulder, getting milk and blood on his tunic and not bothering the older dwarf in the slightest. 

“If you could-.” Thorin inquired gently, and Dís nodded quickly, already moving to grab the cleaning supplies that were hardly used. As she mopped up the milk and sweeped up the glass, she could hear the hobbit’s sobs and whimpered pleas as her brother tried to soothe the child. 

She didn’t want to think about what caused the child to be so terrified of making such a common mess. Her own children, her boys, had made greater messes in their time (still did), and the worse she had done was spanked them. Even then, they were never terrified of her, or to that extent at least. 

Perhaps Thorin had a point.

As soon as she was done, and his kitchen was back to its somewhat-clean state, she dug through and found the small kit her brother kept in the kitchen (he was dangerous and reckless with any kitchen tools, and used it somewhat regularly), and went back to the sitting room, pausing when she saw them on the couch. 

Thorin was sitting on the couch with Bilbo on his lap, rubbing the child’s back and humming a soft, soothing tune under his breath. Lips pressed gently to the little one’s forehead as he whimpered softly into his chest. 

Dís felt a pang for her brother, then. He had always been good with children, especially with her nephews. But she knew that he would sometimes grow wistful, for he had always hoped to have children of his own someday, despite his proclivities for being with dwarrows of a similar gender. She had only wished that he didn’t have to take one in, an outsider no less, if only to spare her brother and Bilbo from the cruel words of those who did not view such things as “proper”. 

It was clear as day that he loved that boy as his own. And from the way Bilbo clung to him, it was also clear that he had formed a strong, important bond with Thorin. 

“Might I see his hands?” She asked, taking a seat next to her brother. 

Thorin looked at her, clearly hesitant on letting her help as he continued to hold the little hobbit in his arms. Eventually he did nod. “Alright.” He breathed before whispering instructions into one of Bilbo’s pointed ears, causing those big, watery eyes to open and look at her.

Dís only smiled, opening the kit. “I just want to help fix them, Bilbo.” She soothed, watching as her brother managed to urge Bilbo’s hands out of his tunic and towards her. “That’s all.”

“O… Okay…”

With that, Dís set to work on cleaning the cuts on Bilbo’s hands, picking out any small shards of glass and cooing at him if he whimpered or fought in pain. After making sure that they weren’t that deep, she gently bandaged his hands (bandages, even for small injuries, always made her boys feel better, and she hoped it would do the same for him). Once she was done, she smiled at the still-tearful boy.

“All done!” She announced brightly under her brother’s smiling gaze before she gently placed a kiss on Bilbo’s fingertips. “To help with the healing process. Can never fully recover from something without a kiss!”

Despite meaning well, something in what she said seemed to strike a chord in Bilbo, for his lip’s trembling renewed and his eyes filled with tears again.

“Th-Thank you…” He whimpered, cradling his hands close.

Dís couldn’t help but wonder if his own parents used to do that with him, and perhaps that was why he seemed to tear up again. Instead of pressing, she merely stroked the boy’s shin gently. “You’re welcome, Bilbo.”

Thorin smiled down at him. “Well, you’re all patched up now. And soon they’ll be completely healed.” He said. “I’m just glad nothing worse happened to you.”

Bilbo hid his face in Thorin’s chest. “So… You won’t kick me out…?”

Dís felt her eyes widen on her on accord as she looked at her brother, seeing his face fill with a mixture of sadness and anger. Of course, she knew her brother wouldn’t say such things. But who would? Who would dare to threaten to force a child from their home like that over such a small thing?

“No.” Thorin answered, tightening his hold. “No, I would never do that to you, Bilbo. It was just an accident, what happened, and we all have accidents and break things.”

“Did you know, Bilbo,” Dís cut in, seeing those big green eyes look at her. “That when we were little, Thorin broke a statue of one of the great dwarf lords of the Far East?”

Thorin had flushed at the memory as Bilbo’s eyes widened. “R-Really?”

“It already had faults in the marble, so it was bound to fall apart one day.” He grumbled. “I just… sped up the process.”

Dís snorted as Bilbo giggled softly. “Anyway, it had been a very important gift of peace to our father, and he seemed to like it very much. He was _terrified_ and tried to hide it.” She continued. “Of course our father found out, anyway. And you know what he did?”

“What?” Bilbo asked warily.

“He merely gave me a scolding, that is all.” Thorin answered. “So you see, accidents can happen. Even I still break important things and the like. It’s alright so long as you apologize, and perhaps, you ask for help from now on. I truly was worried that you were seriously hurt, Bilbo.”

“I’m sorry.” Bilbo stated softly. “And I’ll… I’ll remember to ask next time.”

Thorin grinned, kissing Bilbo on the forehead and tucking it under his chin. “That’s my boy.”

**xxx**

“What are you doing?”

Dís hardly spared a glance at her brother, who had just walked into the kitchen after putting Bilbo down for a nap. Instead, she focused more on gathering ingredients.

“Potato soup.” She finally stated. “Soup is always a good food that can give comfort after a rather… trying day. Cheap to make, too. Potato soup is even better. Really sticks to your ribs.”

“Ah…” Thorin breathed, watching his sister work. “One problem…”

“What?”

“Don’t you need milk?” He asked. “I’m afraid I’m fresh out of it at the moment.”

After all that had transpired that afternoon, it was all Dís could do to not immediately laugh at that statement. She didn’t feel too bad, for Thorin laughed with her.

“Oh, you have proper substitutes here.” She replied. “We’ll make due.”

“If you insist.” He breathed. “Need any help?”

“Not from you, no.” She said, pausing to collect her thoughts. “However… Thorin…”

She turned, looking at Thorin as he rolled up his sleeves.

“I wish to apologize for what I said. I didn’t mean to-.” She trailed off, worrying her lip a little. “You… You are good for him. For Bilbo. Not that it might matter much, but… I approve.”

Thorin smiled at her, face softening greatly. “He is good for me, as well.”

Dís smiled at him again. “I just worry over you sometimes. You hardly ever think things through properly.” She continued. “One of these days, you’ll get yourself killed.”

“That won’t happen until I’m ready to die.” He replied firmly. “And that will only be when we have returned home.”

Dís let out a sharp breath. “ _Thorin_ -.”

“Now,” He cut her off, rolling up his sleeves. “Give me a task. It is my kitchen after all.”

“If you absolutely have to, chop those vegetables. And remember: They are _not_ weapons! Do not wield them as such!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More shall come! Don't you worry!


	4. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets lost, and guess who finds him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR BEING GONE SO LONG SO SO SORRY
> 
> HAVE SOME IMPLIED PRE-BOFURSHIELD AND FLUFF FOR YOUR TROUBLE

Bofur wasn’t one to mind working the shop with his cousin. It was an awkwardly tiny shop (Bombur could never enter the front way), but it helped that they got away with putting in stalls to make it easier. Usually, he liked working the front. He always loved seeing the children and their smiling faces. Loved how their eyes lit up at the toys and trinkets out for sale. 

But today was not one of those days.

It was an unbearably hot day, for one. There were times where Bofur sometimes found it hard to breath, the hot air clung to his throat so badly. It made him grumpy, and his cousin more prone to lash out. Not to mention that the children, it seemed, morphed into monsters with the heat. 

He sighed tiredly, wiping the sweat from his brow and looking back at his brother, who was busy fixing up one of the toys that a “monster” had broken. It hadn’t been a good day, not with sales, not with children, and not with weather. It also seemed that his brother was getting more and more irritated the more he worked. Bofur pondered closing up, since business was rather slow that day and they had already met their weekly goal (a rare yet wonderful feat). He was about to suggest such things to his cousin when he saw that his cousin was no longer working on the toy in his hands. Rather, he was staring at something further down the stretch of stalls towards the right. Bofur turned to look as well, only to feel his brows disappear under his hat.

It was the most peculiar little boy Bofur had ever seen. So small, compared to most children, with large feet and a riot of curls on his head. The poor thing looked curled in on itself, wide eyes close to tears. Clearly, he was lost, for no one, dwarrow or man, had moved to comfort the child.

With that, Bofur nodded towards his cousin. “Hold the shop?”

Bifur grunted in affirmation, standing up and moving inside as Bofur adjusted his hat, wiped his brow, and moved as quickly and as calmly as he could through the throngs of people to get to the child before someone with ill intentions could. 

“Hello there!” He greeted, kneeling down in front of the surprised child as soon as he was within proper child-conversing distance. “Are you alright? You look a bit lost.”

 

The child swallowed, fingers going into its hair, and Bofur saw that it had tiny braids in it, adorned with small, simple beads. Clearly, it was a dwarf’s child, but certainly not by blood. After a moment, it nodded, averting its eyes.

“Well, I’m Bofur, son of Kofur.” He introduced, tilting his head a little. “What might be your name?”

The child fidgeted before turning his gaze back to Bofur. “Bilbo.” He finally answered. “Bilbo Baggins.”

A hobbit then, Bofur finally realized. And a boy, at that. The poor thing look mighty terrified, as would be expected if he was parted from his family. 

“Well, Bilbo Baggins, how about we get you out of the crowd, and then we can find your parents.”

“Papa.”

“Your papa, then. Is that alright?”

Bilbo nodded after a few moments, and Bofur stood, offering his hand to the boy, which he accepted with caution. Doing his best to send the lad reassuring looks, he lead him back to the stall he ran with his cousin. Bifur had returned to his earlier seat, and Bofur smiled when he saw that he had a different toy in his hands now. 

“This is my cousin Bifur, Bilbo.” Bofur introduced. “Bifur, this is Bilbo Baggins. Sad to say, he lost his Papa.”

Bifur nodded sharply in understanding as he focused on Bilbo again. Bofur couldn’t bite back an amused chuckle when the lad bowed after a moment’s hesitation.

“A-A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Master Bifur.” Bilbo greeted softly, and Bofur grinned as he saw his cousin do the same, moving to stand in front of the child and putting the small, wooden toy in his hands before patting it and grunting a few words in Khuzdul. The lad looked back and forth between Bifur and the toy with bright, curious eyes and Bofur continued to smile.

“It’s a gift. For you.” Bofur finally explained, causing Bilbo’s wide eyes to grow even wider. “A sign of good faith.”

Bilbo’s face went pink before sending Bifur a small, shy smile. “T-Thank you.”

Bifur chuckled a little, patting the boy on the head and going back to his seat.

“Now, Bilbo Baggins.” Bofur pressed. “We should probably get to finding your papa.”

Bilbo’s lips trembled slightly. “Y-Yes. It’s… He works at a… a _forge_ , and I was there with him because Master Dwalin couldn’t watch over me, and Master Balin was busy with work.” He explained, eyes growing bright. “I… I just wanted to go for a walk before lunch! I didn’t mean to get lost! He’s going to be so angry with me, I just know it!”

“Hey, hey! Don’t you worry!” Bofur assured, moving to kneel in front of Bilbo again as the boy began to snuffle and mutter incomprehensible things. “I’m sure that he’s just worried about you. Now, do you know his name?”

Bilbo nodded. “Papa’s name is Thorin. Thorin O-Oaken…” He began, frowning when he had trouble finding the words, but Bofur already knew whom he was talking about.

“Oakenshield?” He asked softly, and Bilbo nodded furiously.

“Yes! Yes, that’s my papa!” He said quickly. “Do you know where his forge is? I don’t know how to get there from here!”

Bofur couldn’t help but feel a little blindsided. Of course, he knew Thorin: he had charming, energetic nephews and an arse that could bounce off boulders. He always had a thing for the blacksmith-slash-exiled-royal, but he had no idea that he had a _son_ , let alone one that wasn’t of blood.

“Well,” He finally spoke, clearing his throat. “You’re in luck, Bilbo, son of Thorin. I know exactly where Thorin’s forge is.”

“Really?”

“Aye, I do.”

“Then…” Bilbo muttered. “Can you take me there? I don’t want to be in anymore trouble.”

Bofur just smiled, giving his cousin a quick glance. “Absolutely.” He affirmed. “Bifur, watch the shop. Bombur should be back soon, but I’ll hopefully be back before that. I’m gonna take Bilbo here back to his papa, who I’m sure is worried.”

His cousin grunted in affirmation, and Bofur took Bilbo’s free hand, leading back through the streets. As he made his way through the crowds, he kept a firm grip on Bilbo’s hand as the small child kept an even firmer grip on his. He didn’t dare pick up the boy. Didn’t want to press his luck. Of course, his luck also dictated that he would be killed the moment he was spotted with Thorin’s son anyway, for fear he kidnapped the poor boy. He just hoped that luck was going to be on his side. 

Bofur knew the directions to the forge Thorin worked at by heart, as foolish as it seemed. He would needlessly go there for his assistance like a silly tween with a crush and would get teased by his family because of it. So it didn’t take long before the forge came into sight.

Of course, Thorin’s voice reached their ears before they could get that close.

“Bilbo! Bilbo, where are you!?”

“Papa!” Said boy cried softly, looking both relieved and terrified at the same time. In fact, he looked almost ready to bolt, so Bofur pulled the boy close.

“Over here!” Bofur called out, pulling off his hat and waving it in the air. It was ridiculous that his heart seemed to flutter the moment those blue eyes locked with his. When that dwarf rushed over, pushing through the crowd.

Thorin looked rather harried, still covered in grime and sweat. But the instant he seemed to spot Bilbo next to Bofur, he seemed to ease a little. “ _Bilbo_!” He breathed, immediately stooping down to pick up the boy and hold him close. “Oh, Bilbo, I thought I lost you! What did I tell you about wandering off?”

“I’m sorry!” Bilbo whimpered, but Thorin just stroked his back. “I just wanted to explore! I didn’t mean to go very far!”

“Why didn’t you wait for your cousins?” 

“Fíli had gone to see Master Ori, and Kíli had gone with them.” The boy explained. “I really am sorry, papa. Don’t be mad! I promise not to do it again!”

Thorin let out a huffing sound, tucking Bilbo’s head under his chin. “I’m just glad you’re alright.” He muttered. “But please, don’t go wandering off on your own again.”

“I wasn’t always alone.” Bilbo cut in, and Bofur fussed with his hat when he looked at him. “Master Bofur found me, and he brought me back.”

Those eyes found his, and Bofur hoped he wasn’t blushing too brightly. “Is that right?”

Bilbo nodded, grinning at Bofur, who couldn’t help but grin back. “Yeah. He and his cousin were really nice. They even gave me this toy! See?”

Thorin seemed to huff a little at the sight before turning back to Bofur. “Thank you, Master Bofur.” He said. “I hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

“Oh, not at all!” Bofur said, reaching over to pat Bilbo’s curly head, who giggled before tucking it back into Thorin’s neck. “He was a good lad. Just glad to be able to help out.”

“Well, if there’s any way I could repay you-.”

“Think nothing of it.” Bofur waved off. “As I said, I’m just glad I could help.”

“You could stay for lunch!” Bilbo chimed in, and Thorin looked down at the boy in his arms. “Can’t he, papa?”

“Oh, well, it’s sweet of you to offer, but I’ve got to get back to my cousin.” Bofur replied, trying to avoid any awkwardness by the sweet hobbit. “Maybe some other time.”

Thorin huffed a little. “You might want to make that a promise.” He said. “He will take you seriously.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude-.”

“No, it’s fine.” The smith cut in. “I… It would be an honor to be host to you and your family, if they were also to be so inclined.”

Bofur couldn’t believe his ears. Never in a hundred years did he think a royal would want to invite a miner and his ruffian family over for a meal, let alone sound rather pleased by the idea.

Children were wondrous creatures.

“I’ll have to talk to my brother and cousin first, of course.” He finally answered. “But I don’t see it being much of a problem. I’ll get back to you.”

“Very well.” Thorin said, shifting his hold on Bilbo and smiling down at him. “We must get back. I still have work, and I did promise you to show you the sword I was working on.”

“Is it done!?”

“Almost.”

Bofur huffed, trying to picture the boy with a blade and finding it a rather odd picture. Still he ruffled Bilbo’s hair. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Bilbo Baggins.” He jeered before tilting his head to His Majesty. “Master Oakenshield.”

“Just Thorin,” He cut in, and Bofur had to be imagining the slight pink on the dwarf’s cheeks. “Please.”

He grinned. “Thorin,” He corrected, nodding. “I’ll be in touch. Don’t you worry.”

“We’ll be seeing you.” Thorin said as Bofur began to walk away and Bilbo cried out his own farewell as well.

All the while, Bofur couldn’t help but feel a little dizzy. He had been invited to dine with _Thorin_ of all people. He needed to find his best tunic, and had to make sure that Bombur had a hearty snack before they went. 

He could still hear Bilbo, though, and the young boy’s words caused Bofur to stumble.

“I like him, papa. Can Master Bofur be my uncle?”


	5. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo wants to learn, and Thorin doesn't want him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I did the Bofurshield.

“No.”

“But papa-!”

“ _No_.”

Bilbo huffed like any child would when denied something, but Thorin held firm. He had been getting rather good at it lately, especially when his boy started suggesting things that were quite ludicrous.

Going to the markets by himself? And let him get _lost_ again? Even though he had walked in them with at least one adult plenty of times before, it was a nightmare waiting to happen.

Working in the forge? Bending wires was one thing, but being so close to hot coals and even hotter metal? Absolutely not.

This, however, took the cake. Because Bilbo actually wanted to learn how to fight. With _weapons_.

He blamed Dwalin for letting the lad watch him train his nephews. He also blamed Bofur for encouraging him to request such a thing. Bofur, who was sitting in the other room, and Thorin could tell he was fighting the urge to storm in and try to diffuse the situation.

“Papa, we’ll be going to the Shire again this coming spring.” Bilbo continued plaintively, and since when did Thorin’s little boy speak so eloquently? He blamed Balin. “What if there are orcs? Or bandits?”

“Then we’ll be there to protect you.” Was his automatic response.

“Well, that’s good in theory, but what if I’m separated from you in the chaos? I’d be defenseless!” Bilbo argued. 

“That won’t happen!”

“It could, though, and you can’t say it won’t!” The hobbit stressed. “Having a dagger is useless when I don’t know how to use it properly!”

“You shouldn’t have to use it properly.” Thorin stressed, moving around Bilbo to continue cleaning the dishes. “You’re not learning. End of discussion.”

“But I still don’t see why not!” Bilbo shouted, and Thorin growled when he sounded like he was practically screeching. “Why are you so hesitant? Fíli and Kíli know how to, so why shouldn’t I?”

“They are dwarrows sworn to protect their people. Warriors, Bilbo. That’s different.” Thorin pressed. “I will not have you become a warrior if I can help it. It’s not a life one lives gracefully.”

“But I don’t want to be a warrior! I just want to be able to defend myself when you can’t be there!”

“I will _always_ be there for you, Bilbo. You’re my son, and I would never leave you to do that.”

“You can’t know that, though, papa.” Bilbo said. “Please, just _please_ ask Master Dwalin to teach me the bare basics at _least_! That is all I ask!”

Thorin sighed through his nose, teeth grinding together as he tried not do immediately go back to his previous strategy. “I will think about it. It is not a yes, but not a no, either.” He said. 

Bilbo huffed, for clearly the lad knew of Thorin’s plans to pretend to think on it and simply say no come morning. “I’ll ask him myself if you refuse.” He stated. “He’ll side with me!”

“He fears me too much to go against my wishes, Bilbo!” Thorin argued, voice growing louder as Bilbo began to stomp towards his room. “If you continue to act like this, I will refuse regardless!”

“We’ll see!”

“And don’t slam the-!” Thorin cried, wincing when Bilbo did what he was trying to ask him not to do. “… Door.”

The silence that settled throughout his home was deafening, even when Bofur appeared in the kitchen, whistling lowly.

“Don’t you start.” Thorin chastised. “It’s all your fault, anyway. Getting the lad to think I’ll immediately agree to such a ridiculous plan.”

“Well, to be honest, I would think you wanted your own son to be able to fight.” Bofur answered, and Thorin scoffed as he turned back to the dishes. “It’s true! We live in an age where you either fight or die, Thorin, and you know that. Teaching him self-defense would be a blessing to the lad, and you know it.”

Thorin groaned, scrubbing a little to hard at his least favorite plate as he heard Bofur approach him.

“You know he had to go through the wild before.” Bofur told him quietly, causing Thorin to freeze. “Defenseless and _alone_. Of course, you’ll do what you can to make sure the latter never happens, and I certainly will too… But we can’t always be there for him.”

Thorin shuddered, bowing over the tub of sudsy water as he recalled first meeting his son. How terrified he was, and how starved. How he was practically turned feral.

“I don’t want him to get hurt.” Thorin said softly. “I don’t want what happened to me to happen to him as well.”

“Is that why you refused?” Bofur asked, and Thorin leaned into the hand that grasped his shoulder. “Because you didn’t want him to become a warrior and charge into battle?”

“Why do you think I fought with my sister over my nephews undergoing such training?” Thorin explained. “It’s important, yes. And needed, along with the rest of their education. But I don’t want to lose them. Any of them. Not my nephews, _not my son_.”

He didn’t fight it when Bofur pulled him into his arms. The only thing he hoped was that Bofur wouldn’t mind him getting soapy water all over his tunic as he clung back desperately. 

“I can’t tell you for sure that you won’t, because I can’t see into the future.” He said softly in Thorin’s ear. “But what I do know is that not letting them know how to defend themselves could be more damaging then letting them know. For what if the unthinkable happens? What if we were gone, and someone came to harm them? Someone who could easily overpower them? Overpower Bilbo? He won’t know what to do.”

“He’s not meant to fight.” Thorin argued. “He never was.”

“Not fight, no.” Bofur agreed. “But he’s meant to defend himself. To defend his family, if it comes to it. Besides, he’s a smart lad. He won’t go needlessly charging into battle. Such things don’t interest him.”

Thorin sighed into Bofur’s neck, for of course he was right. Despite not knowing the behavior of someone in Court, or not knowing that a man who would get so many toys for his son and nephews had ulterior motives, he knew other things. Knew that Bilbo needed to be able to defend himself if need be, because he wouldn’t always have someone there to help him, no matter how hard Thorin would try. Knew that Bilbo wouldn’t have to face endless wars or battles, because he would be smart enough to know that such places weren’t meant for a boy with a mind more set on books and writing. 

“Let him.” Bofur finally said after a few moments. “For his protection.”

Thorin let out a deep, long breath. “I’ll ask Dwalin first thing.” He replied, getting a kiss on the cheek. “I better go tell Bilbo that the lad won.”

Bofur huffed a laugh, patting Thorin’s shoulder. “Ah, kids. They grow up so fast!”

“He’s barely ten-!”

“-He'll be twelve next month, actually.”

“He’s not old, at all!” Thorin continued as they walked down the hall. “Yet he’s so smart. And stubborn!”

“Well, it’s your fault.” Bofur chided. “He’s your boy, after all.”

Thorin huffed, a smile twitching on his face. It was ridiculous that the mere thought of Bilbo being _his_ boy still made him feel so happy.

“Indeed.” He replied. Leaving out how he wanted Bilbo to be Bofur’s boy, too.

One big conversation at a time, after all.


	6. Shire Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo returns to the Shire with his new family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of skipping around timeline-wise with this fic, as you might be able to tell after reading this chapter. It certainly won't be the last Shire chapter, but I don't know if I'll continue straight on with their Shire visit(s?) after this one, or skip around some more (I can't help that I love skipping).

“Papa?”

Thorin hummed in question, pulling Bilbo a little bit closer to his person as their pony began navigating some of the rougher patches on the road. “Yes? What is it?”

“I’m scared.”

Thorin huffed a small breath, for of course Bilbo was scared. It had been some time since Gerontius Took, Bilbo’s grandfather, had left the mountains to return to the Shire, and they were only a few weeks behind. It was at the Thain’s request that they arrive so quickly, for not only to make sure Bilbo’s previous guardians could be punished properly, but also to make sure he wouldn’t lose his home by being falsely labeled as… well, no longer living.

But seeing as Bilbo left the Shire for reasons that were far from pleasant in the first place, it was understandable that he would be hesitant to return. Now, especially, for Hobbiton was less than a day’s ride from where they were now.

“It can be frightening to go back to a place where such things happened, Bilbo,” Thorin finally replied, gently nuzzling his nose into his little flint’s hair. “But no matter what, we will be there. We will make sure no harm comes to you.”

By “we”, Thorin meant Dwalin and his nephews, who had made it quite clear early on that they did not want to be left out of such a journey. He knew the main reason was to make sure Bilbo, their dear hobbit, would be alright, but he also knew that they wanted to see the Shire for themselves. His nephews, especially. 

Bilbo looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes. “But what if they want me to stay?” He asked, wringing his hands in the pony’s mane. “What if they won’t let you keep me?”

“We have been given full guardianship over you, Bilbo, by your grandfather personally.” Thorin reminded him. “I would like to see them try.”

“You won’t let them keep me?”

“I won’t let them take you away from us.” He assured. “Even if they tried, we will take you right back.”

Bilbo leaned back further into Thorin’s hold. “Thank you, papa.”

“No need to thank me.” He told Bilbo. “I’m your papa, and you’re my little flint. There’s nothing else to it.”

He couldn’t see it, but Bilbo had smiled.

**xxx**

Gerontius was waiting for them, joined by a few elder hobbits, smiling and eyes open as they rode in. Bilbo could hardly wait to get off the pony to see his grandfather again, and Thorin couldn’t blame him. He was one of the few adults, family even, that seemed to treat him the way he deserved. The others with him watched Thorin and his small company with wide eyes, clearly taken aback by those who had found Bilbo and taken him in.

“Welcome to Hobbiton!” The Thain greeted as Thorin hopped off and reached to help Bilbo. “I’m glad you arrived in one piece, for I know the roads can be rather treacherous. I hope there wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Not even a bandit.” Thorin assured, smiling as Bilbo rushed to give his grandfather a hug.

“Grandpa, I missed you!” He cried, even as Gerontius chuckled good-naturedly and ruffled his hair. 

“I missed you as well, and I’m glad I did not have to wait almost a year to see you again.” He replied before turning to the elders. “Gentlemen, I would like for you to meet Master Thorin Oakenshield, his nephews Masters Fíli and Kíli, and Master Dwalin. They are Bilbo’s family from the Blue Mountains.”

“We are at your service.” Thorin greeted, bowing as his nephews and Dwalin followed suit.

The other elders seemed rather taken aback by their appearance, and Gerontius looked at them with a grin. As if their discomfort amused them. Clearly, they weren’t used to outsiders, let one used to the idea that they adopted one of their own.

“I did not know we were expecting a welcoming committee.” Dwalin interjected as he straightened.

“Yes, well…” One of the elders finally piped up, clearing his throat. “We’re not so much a welcoming party as we are…”

“That is Thadeus Proudfoot, along with his brother Padeus and Felegrim Brandybuck. They are the Shirriffs. Well, Felegrim is a temporary fill-in, at the moment, but with power all the same.” Gerontius explained. 

“Shirriffs?”

“We make sure the laws are upheld in these parts, as well as making sure there aren’t any… unwelcome visitors.” Thadeus explained for Kíli, who asked. “Not-Not that you are unwelcome, of course not! Just… that is part of our job…”

Thorin straightened, looking at Gerontius. “I take it they are here…”

“The Sackville-Bagginses, yes.” The Thain replied softly, so Bilbo couldn’t hear. “As soon as I arrived, I went to the Mayor and demanded for their arrest and a full investigation. Just as I said I would.”

“And, while we have removed Otho from duty, we have found some rather incriminating evidence, and-.” Padeus began, but movement caused him to cease. They looked down, seeing Bilbo, who had grown rather quiet and pale, shuffle around his grandfather, knuckles as white as the Took’s shirt.

“Ah, forgive me. The open air is far from proper for discussing such things. Perhaps we can move to our headquarters. I’ll have my wife watch over-.”

“We’ll do it!” Fíli and Kíli cut in.

“He’s our cousin, after all-.” Fíli continued.

“Besides, uncle says we’re too young to get involved.” Kíli finished.

Thadeus huffed a little. “V-Very well, then. Master dwarves, if you please. We’ll have someone tend to your ponies.”

They followed Gerontius and the Shirriffs along the road, getting odd stares from the other hobbits that were out and about doing their daily businesses. It was clear to both Thorin and Dwalin that they weren’t used to strangers coming through, let alone dwarrows like themselves. 

When they seemed to have reached their destination, Thorin rounded on his nephews as Gerontius whispered a few words in Bilbo’s ear.

“Make sure he doesn’t wander off.” He instructed. “In fact, I don’t want you wandering off, either.”

“Relax, uncle!” Fíli assured. “We’ve taken care of Bilbo by ourselves before! We can manage!”

“Yeah!” Kíli agreed. “Besides, we’re not like you! We don’t get lost at the drop of a hat!”

There was some amused chuckling, and Thorin growled a low warning to his nephews before kneeling in front of Bilbo.

“I want you to stay with Fíli and Kíli. I promise you, this will not take long.” He assured. “Then, we’ll head straight to your home.”

“Promise?” Bilbo asked softly.

Thorin huffed softly, finger one of the braids in the young hobbit’s hair. “Promise.” He said firmly. “A dwarf never breaks his promises.”

Bilbo beamed, and Thorin nudged their foreheads together gently before heading inside.

“You have to admit,” Kíli said after a few long moments of waiting outside with Bilbo, who had taken to fiddling with the grass. “This kinda sucks.”

“Oh, stop!” Fíli hissed, elbowing his brother in the stomach. “Bilbo, I hope you don’t think we don’t want to spend time with you. Really, we do!”

“But it would be nice to hear what’s going on!” Kíli whined.

Bilbo bit his lower lip, looking up at Fíli and Kíli. “Do you think they’ll tell papa he can’t keep me?”

“Oh, _no_ , Bilbo.” Fíli whispered fiercely as he knelt in front of him. “They wouldn’t dare try to take you from us. Your grandfather already said you could stay.”

“He’s right!” Kíli agreed, joining his brother. “If anything, they might just want to make doubly sure that-!”

“Bilbo? Bilbo Baggins, is that you?”

They all turned towards the small, astonished voice behind them. It was another hobbit, clearly a child, gazing at Bilbo with wide, wondrous eyes. 

“Hamfast!” Bilbo cried happily, rushing forward as the other hobbit cheered happily. Fíli and Kíli watched with minor trepidation as they hugged and shuffled about in excitement. The children chattered excitedly before Bilbo tugged little Hamfast towards the two princes.

“Fíli, Kíli! I want you to meet Hamfast Gamgee, my friend!” Bilbo greeted excitedly. “Hamfast, that’s Fíli, and that’s Kíli! They’re my new cousins!”

“Blimey, Bilbo! I didn’t know you had dwarf cousins!” Hamfast breathed. “If anything, I thought you ran off with the elves!”

“Hey!” Kíli butted in. “We’re loads better than those tree-shagging ninnies!”

“Kíli, you know what uncle said!” Fíli hissed. “We’re not supposed to say that in front of Bilbo!”

“Ah…”

“What’s a tree-shagging ninny?” Hamfast asked Bilbo.

“I don’t know, but I think it’s the same thing as a tree-shagger.” He answered, frowning. “And I don’t know what those are, either. Papa wouldn’t tell me.”

“Papa?”

“Yeah! Papa Thorin!”

“Who!?”

They chatted away, catching up and exchanging childish tales while Fíli and Kíli interjected odd bits here and there before both children paused to listen to their own tales. Bilbo had listened to them already, many times over, but he still enjoyed them, especially now that Hamfast, his old friend, was listening as well. After a while, a plump little woman had arrived, who happened to be Hamfast’s mother. She was quite relieved to see Bilbo, and a little surprised to find out that dwarves had taken him in, but she was kind enough. She had just invited them over for dinner when Dwalin and Thorin emerged from the building. They exchanged short pleasantries with Hamfast’s mother before she left them to their business.

“Are we going to Bag End now?” Bilbo asked as Thorin bent down to pick him up.

Thorin sighed. “Not yet, flint. I’m afraid there’s a few things we still need to discuss.” He replied. 

“They’re not gonna-?” Bilbo began, but Thorin shook his head.

“No.” He assured firmly. “No, nothing like that. It’s… Feregrim’s father. He’s here as well, and-.”

“I remember him! He used to give me things when I was sick so I could get better!” Bilbo cut in happily. “He wants to see me?”

“Indeed.” Thorin replied, and his nephews saw the tightness in his jaw. “He wants to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“Okay.” 

Thorin gave Dwalin a small nod before he went back inside, leaving the warrior outside with Fíli and Kíli. 

“What’s going on?” Kíli asked as Dwalin let out a large gust of breath.

“They have a lot against the Sackville-Bagginses, _quite_ a lot. A small cubby with a sparse bed with locks on the door, with hardly any toys, certainly not enough for more than one child just being a few things.” Dwalin replied. “However, they only have enough to prove that they neglected Bilbo, not… anything else.”

“They’d still be in trouble, though.” Fíli supplied, Kíli nodding.

“Only enough to make sure they couldn’t take Bilbo back. Nothing more.” The older dwarf told them, cutting them off before the princes could cry out in indignation. “That’s why their healer’s taking a look at Bilbo. They want to see his back.”

They tensed at Dwalin’s words, for they knew how sensitive Bilbo was about that particular area. He hated anyone looking at it, and still sometimes flinched away when someone touched it. For while it was completely healed, the injuries were more than skin deep, it seemed.

“Can… Can we at least go in…?” Kíli pleaded, and Dwalin nodded.

“Only if you want.” They wanted.

When they walked in, it was to see all the Shirriffs in a sitting room with Gerontius, who was sipping tea with a coolness the princes had only seen in their mother, and that was only when someone had angered her greatly.

“It’s the first time he heard it as well.” Dwalin told them quietly. “He was not at all happy. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it.”

They snorted, freezing when they got peculiar looks and a hard glare from Gerontius. They very quietly pointed their fingers at Dwalin, and waited.

It wasn’t long before a door opened and another older hobbit entered the sitting room, a grim look on his face. Clearly, he was the healer.

“Well?” Thadeus pressed. 

“There are indeed scars on his back.” The healer answered. “The freshest seem to be almost a year old. Others are much older. Other than that, Bilbo’s the healthiest I’ve seen him since his parents passed. Definitely happier.”

“We have our proof, then.”

“More than enough to send them away for a long time.”

Thadeus let out a long breath. “It’s seems Lotho shall be a permanent fixture with his cousins, then.” He replied, smiling when Thorin walked in with Bilbo in his arms, head tucked under his chin. “And we’re pleased Bilbo is doing so well! We’re all happy to see him again, alive and well with his new family.”

Thorin nodded, movements stiff. “Of course.”

“Well, we’re sorry for taking up so much of your time, Master Thorin.” Thadeus said, bowing slightly. “We will be taking all our information to the Mayor, and the Sackville-Bagginses shall be punished to the fullest degree. The Thain shall show you where Bag End is. I hear that the journey is long, no matter how peaceful it might be. You deserve some rest and comfort.”

“Thank you.” He replied, pulling Bilbo a little closer. “For the welcome. And for…”

“Of course…”

With that, the Shirriffs stood and began to disperse, and Thorin moved to stand with Dwalin and his nephews.

“What happened?” Fíli pleaded, but Thorin just shook his head. Clearly, it wasn’t something he wished to talk about, and it was something that clearly made him want to take his sword to something.

“Let’s just go.” He said, and Bilbo stirred against his chest.

“Are we going to go home, now?” He asked.

“Yes, Bilbo, my precious little flint.” Thorin replied, walking past his small company and heading out the door. “We’re finally going home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MANY MADE-UP NAMES BECAUSE I SUCK BUT I WANTED THIS PART OVER AND DONE AND HAVE THE SACKVILLE-BAGGINSES PUNISHED BECAUSE THEY'RE DICKS SO SORRY IF IT SUCKS


	7. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Shire welcomes them with open arms
> 
> All except one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers: Fights and child injuries and not-so-niceness.

After living amongst hobbits for a certain period of time, being the guardians of one of their fauntlings, they will eventually grow used to you. That was what Thorin learned over the past couple of weeks they spent in the Shire. Sure, there were still plenty that scoffed at the mere idea that dwarrows could adopt a hobbit as one of their own and not be barbaric, but many more were courteous and kind to them. It certainly helped that the Gamgees were the first to approach them, to offer help with food and maintenance in an around Bag End. It also helped that his nephews were surprisingly popular with the hobbit lasses, and Dwalin was popular with the children. Bilbo being returned and acting more like a child than a ghost also didn’t hurt. 

Thorin was half-mad with worry that Bilbo would want to stay behind, even though the mountains called the dwarves home. After such a time when he thought Bilbo wouldn’t want to be a part of his family, or feared that Bilbo’s relatives would come to take him away, he couldn’t help but feel such worry. Then Bilbo came bounding up to him several days into their stay and asking when they would go back home to the mountains, and he never felt so giddy, nor so foolish in his life. Foolish, for he dared to think that his son, his little flint, would not want him. And giddy, because Bilbo called the Blue Mountains _home_.

A part of him wished that he still had Erebor for Bilbo to call home, but he soon realized he wouldn’t even have his hobbit if that were the case, the Lonely Mountain being so far east. 

Unfortunately, despite all the good experiences they had, a bad one was bound to occur. 

Thorin didn’t know it happened until he heard shouting near the front door of Bag End. He immediately dropped the spoon he was using to stir the soup for dinner and ran for the door, tearing it open and feeling his heart drop out of his feet at the sight.

It was his nephews barreling up the steps, Kíli leading the charge and carrying Bilbo in his arms. Bilbo, who was clutching at Kíli’s tunic with a strong grip and blood on his face and in his hair.

“What happened?” He demanded, meeting Kíli halfway. 

“A _brat_ happened!” Kíli snapped. “Some little twit threw rocks at us while we were out playing with Hamfast!”

Thorin barely noticed Fíli carrying said boy in his arm, whispering calming words into his pointed ear as he sobbed into his shoulder. Instead, he took Bilbo from Kíli’s arms and carried him inside to the kitchen, doing his best to soothe him as he whimpered and stifled sobs of his own.

“Are the rest of you alright?” Thorin demanded as he sat Bilbo on the kitchen table and looking at his nephews, who were clearly disheveled and scuffed. 

“We didn’t try to pick a fight with the kid, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Fíli explained. “Kíli went after him when Bilbo got hit, and the kid bolted. He probably didn’t think we’d go after him. But no, we’re fine. Hamfast is just a bit upset.”

Thorin nodded sharply. “Get the first aid kit.” He stated, and Kíli immediately ran off as Fíli sat down with Hamfast still in his lap. “Sit tight, Bilbo. I’m going to get something to clean this up.”

He moved to the pale of water nearby, taking a dishcloth and soaking it, wringing the water out so it was only slightly damp. As he did this, Hamfast seemed to start crying even harder.

“Is Bilbo going to die?” He asked.

“Of course not.” Fíli told him. “He’ll be alright. Bilbo, you’ll be alright.”

“You will be, Bilbo. Just hold on.” Thorin said, moving to stand in front of his boy again. “I’m going to clean you up a bit. Take a look. This might sting a bit, alright.”

Bilbo sniffled a bit before nodding sharply, wincing when Thorin moved gentle fingers to peel his blood soaked curls away from his forehead. There was a gash there, though the bleeding seemed to have slowed down. He began to dab on it, and Bilbo bit his lip, whimpering and clutching rhythmically at Thorin’s tunic. He did his best to soothe him, even though it hardly seemed to be working.

“Can someone get me some more water, please?” Thorin asked, hearing Kíli reenter the kitchen and placing something on the table.

“I’ll get it.” Fíli said, handing Hamfast over to his brother. “You watch over him.”

“Okay.”

“Bilbo, please don’t die!”

“He’s not going to die, Hamfast! It’s alright!”

As soon as Fíli came back with water, Thorin used it to clean Bilbo’s hair and face, even though the blood there was streaking off with his tears. As soon as he saw that the only injury he had was the one on his forehead, he made sure to clean it properly before he covered it with a small square of bandaging.

“There,” Thorin said, pulling Bilbo into his arms as he began to sob. “It’s okay, Bilbo. You’re going to be fine.”

His words only made Bilbo sob harder.

“Bilbo…” He continued, guiding his boy’s face up so he could look at him. “Do you know who did this to you?”

Bilbo hiccupped. “I… I’m sorry!” He sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”

He could only hold Bilbo tighter. Try to tell him it was fine, and that he had nothing to feel sorry for. He sat there for a while, doing his best to comfort Bilbo as his nephews did the same to Hamfast. It took a while, but they eventually stopped crying and soon fell asleep. They didn’t try to stir them. Merely tucked them in Bilbo’s bed, leaving the door open a crack in case they needed anything.

By the time they left Bilbo’s room, Dwalin walked inside, his lips set in a grim line.

“What is it?” Thorin asked, but Dwalin merely sighed and turned to look by the door. It was then that a hobbit came into view. A man, from what he could tell, and he was fidgety. Nervous. “And you are…?”

The hobbit swallowed before bowing quickly. “Torgo Sackville, sir.” He responded, barely making eye contact. “I… I’m the eldest son of Sergo, and cousin of Lotho Sackville-Baggins, who is currently living with us.”

Thorin stiffened, hearing his nephews growl.

“What do you want?” Kíli snapped, baring his teeth and causing Torgo to pale.

“M-Merely to apologize for what my cousin did!” He responded quickly, hands up. “I… I don’t know if you… But… It was Lotho who… who attacked Bilbo earlier today.”

Thorin muttered a curse, for he had a feeling that was what happened. The Shirriffs had mentioned that Lotho wasn’t taking his parents’ arrest and his separation from them well. 

“I… We would’ve liked it if Lotho came to apologize himself, but…” Torgo continued softly. “But my father’s currently speaking to him, and I… I didn’t want you to think we didn’t care, or thought that what Bilbo did was wrong. We hobbits aren’t cruel by nature, Master Thorin. When word spread about what Otho and Lobelia did, we were horrified, and to be frank, thankful that they got the punishment they deserved. Even their relatives, including my family, think what they did was wrong and deserve their punishment…”

“Does he know?” Thorin eventually asked, seeing Torgo’s face flash briefly with confusion before it settled on grim understanding.

“Father didn’t want to, at first. Didn’t think a child didn’t need to know the details, let alone experience them.” He explained. “But… But that’s what he’s talking to Lotho about now. It… It might not make him less… hurtful. But, perhaps… when he’s older…”

Thorin nodded sharply, barely noticing how Dwalin gave Torgo a hearty pat on the back.

“We appreciate you coming here, lad.” The large dwarf told him, and Torgo didn’t even flinch.

“Is… Is he okay, Bilbo?” He asked quietly, looking at them all with sad, hopeful eyes. “I-I didn’t really see it. I just know there was blood, and I hope that-.”

“He’s not okay.” Thorin told him, causing Torgo to flinch. “But… He will live and move on. It could’ve been a lot worse.”

“I really do apologize. Truly, I…” Torgo muttered a bit before he went back to the door, returning with a basket in hand. “Here.”

Thorin took it with some trepidation, eyebrows raising when he noticed the plethora of jars filled with a deep red substance.

“Strawberry jam.” Torgo explained. “Back when he… When we lived here, it used to be Bilbo’s favorite. It’s… I know it won’t really fix anything, but-.”

“Thank you.” Thorin told him. “For everything.”

Torgo laughed, even though it was tinged with bitterness. “I’ve done nothing, Master Thorin.” He explained. “I just hope you realize that not every hobbit is cruel, and that we plan to make sure Lotho doesn’t bother Bilbo again.”

“Much appreciated.” Thorin muttered, staring down at the jars again, even as Dwalin lead Torgo back outside. 

Later that evening, when Bilbo and Hamfast woke up, they gave them a treat of scones and jam. Bilbo’s eyes lit up and he dug in with a gusto, all sadness seemingly forgotten. And when Hamfast went home, Thorin sat in the large armchair with his boy in his lap, checking his injuries to make sure they were still not as bad as he thought.

“I want you to know something.” Thorin told Bilbo softly as the hobbit rested his head on his chest. “None of this is your fault.”

Bilbo stiffened, but he pressed on. “What they did had nothing to do with you, Bilbo. Lotho’s anger has nothing to do with you.”

He heard his boy whimper, and looked into watery green eyes.

“But it’s my fault that they went away.” He whimpered, and Thorin shushed him.

“It wasn’t your fault, it was _theirs_.” He stated firmly, yet also gently. “They’re the only ones responsible.”

Bilbo sniffled, burying his face in Thorin’s tunic as he placed a soft kiss on the bandage covering his gash.

“I hope that you’ll come to realize that soon, my little flint.” Thorin told him. “And that you remember that no matter what, I will always love you.”

Bilbo sobbed, and he did his best to comfort him until he seemed to settle. “Thank you, Papa.” He said. “And… And I love you, too.”

Thorin smiled and gave his head another kiss. “That’s my boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the last bit of their Shire visit (for now).
> 
> Kinda want to move to other, happier topics. Like how Bilbo was a matchmaker! Because I'm a dork! :P


	8. Married

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wants his papa and his Uncle Bofur to get married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I TOLD YOU I'D GO ON TO LIGHTER SUBJECTS, THIS BEING ONE OF THEM.

Bilbo had grown to love the family he had accumulated since Thorin took him in. Everyone from the brothers Fíli and Kíli, to the thief Nori and his own family. He especially loved Bofur and his brother and cousin, Bombur and Bifur. Bifur was quiet, and sometimes would get angry, but he was always nice, giving him little carved toys and ruffling his head. Bombur was also so very jolly and knew how to cook the best things in the world, and gave him sweets whenever he would see them.

Most importantly of all, though, he loved his Uncle Bofur. Loved the man’s laugh and his hat that he would sometimes put on Bilbo’s head. Loved his songs and his braids. Loved how, even when covered in soot, dust, and fatigued with working in the mines, he always managed to give the best hugs. 

The most interesting thing of all, however, was that his Papa seemed to love Uncle Bofur too.

At first, he was worried. Worried that Bofur might steal Thorin away, or Thorin would abandon him for Bofur. But both dwarrows gave him enough love and affection that he soon realized that wasn’t the case.

Still, they would sometimes look at each other the same way his mother and father did when they were still alive. Sometimes seem so incredibly sad when they would part ways. 

That was when Bilbo realized that he could help them be happy together. That he could have Uncle Bofur as his papa as well.

He decided it then and there that he would get Thorin and Bofur married to each other.

**x**

“… And that’s how dwarrows came to be.” Dwalin finished, one eye on Fíli and Kíli as they sparred, the other on the hobbit in his lap. Ever since the first day he met the wee thing, it seemed that he would constantly be in his lap whenever he sat down. It wasn’t a problem, far from it, for he did care for Bilbo. Today, though, he had a peculiar expression on his face. Like he wanted to ask something important. “Do you wish to hear another story?”

Bilbo hummed, looking down at his little hands as they twisted in his tunic.

“Or, perhaps, you have something you wish to ask me?”

“How do you get two people to marry?”

Dwalin guffawed at the question, even as Bilbo gazed up at him expectedly. “Er…” He muttered, clearing his throat. “Any reason why you wish to know…?”

Because he didn’t want to tell Thorin that his little boy was already looking to get married. Oh, no. A great terror would be unleashed within the mountains if that were to happen.

“Well, there are two people I like very much, and I’m sure they like each other a lot, too.” Bilbo explained. “So I wanted to get them married. How do I do that?”

Dwalin frowned, brow furrowed. “Who are these people?”

Bilbo fidgeted a little before finally answering in a whisper. “Papa and Uncle Bofur.”

Dwalin sighed. Of course Bilbo would notice. Half the mountain had noticed, all except for the two in question. It wasn’t necessarily difficult to pick up on when two dwarrows as easy to read as Bofur and Thorin were besotted with each other. 

“Well?” Dwalin blinked at the word, looking down at Bilbo.

“Well what?”

“How do you do it?”

He sighed again, rubbing his face and adjusting his hold. “I’m afraid it isn’t as simple as making two people stand together, wave your arms around and whatnot, Bilbo.” He explained. “Marriage… It takes a while to get there. It takes a few years of courting before a pair considers it.”

Bilbo hummed, nodding a little in understanding. “Okay,” He replied, “Well, how do we get them to court?”

Dwalin resisted the urge to tell Bilbo that he needed to convince the two to get their heads out of their arses and thought of a better way to explain it. “Another thing that’s not that simple, Bilbo.” He said. “Bofur and Thorin, your papa… There’s a lot that’s keeping both of them from courting. For Thorin… he has a lot of responsibility on his shoulders, and no, it’s not you, Bilbo. You know that he was a prince, could be a king, and he shoulders that responsibility.”

They had yet to tell Bilbo the true story of Erebor, their home. It was something Thorin was very hesitant on. Yes, it was a part of their history, and Bilbo’s if he so chose it, but the tale was grim and they all wanted to at least wait to tell him until he was older. Still, Bilbo knew the basics.

“Well, what about Uncle Bofur?” Bilbo asked. “Why doesn’t he try to approach Papa?”

“Well, Bilbo… that’s also a bit complicated.” He explained, and the child huffed a little. “Picture a strata, if you will…”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a… Rock formation that… You know what, forget the strata.” Dwalin muttered, waving his large hand in the air. “Instead, picture a cake.”

“Oo, okay!” Bilbo said, lighting up at the thought. “What kind, though?”

“A layered cake, if you will.” He continued, grinning at Bilbo’s glee. “Now, let’s say, theoretically, that Thorin is the very top layer of cake, and Bofur is the second layer to the plate. Thorin’s layer only ever touches the layer under him. Bofur can touch the bottom, but it’s hard for him to touch the one above, let alone the very top one that Thorin’s on.”

Bilbo frowned. “Are you saying that, because they’re on such different levels of cake, that they can’t court and get married?”

“That’s what Bofur believes.” Dwalin admitted. “And, I’m afraid, a lot of other people believe it, too.”

“But not Thorin?”

“Thorin would go to the last crumbly layer for love, lad.” Dwalin confessed, recalling the times he caught his friend going soppy. “Especially for Bofur.”

“Well,” Bilbo said after a while. “Other people are stupid.”

“I agree.” Dwalin said. “And so are they.”

He frowned. “Why are they stupid too, Dwalin?”

“Because another reason why they haven’t dared to try courting, Bilbo, is because…” Dwalin continued quietly. “Well, because they both think that the other doesn’t love them back. That they couldn’t.”

“But they do!” Bilbo protested. “I’ve seen it! I know they do! That’s why I want them to get married!”

“I know, lad, I know. Believe me when I say we’ve all seen it, too.” He explained. “But love can be rather blind, and sometimes it’s hard for one to tell if their love would be returned. So they don’t dare to look.”

Dwalin watched as Bilbo frowned in thought, leaning back against his chest as he pulled the little hobbit closer. It was easy to split his attention, for he had done so in the past, so he was able to make sure the young Durins weren’t losing limbs all the while noticing Bilbo’s expression clearing and a small, mischievous grin took its place.

Clearly, Bilbo had developed some kind a plan. Dwalin just hoped it wouldn’t end in disaster.

But before he could dwell on it, Bilbo piped up, “Mister Dwalin?”

“Aye, lad?”

“I’m hungry.”

“So am I, lad. So am I.”

**x**

It was in the middle of the night when Bofur was woken up by the light tapping at his door. He grumbled, checking to see if Bifur had stirred before he finally got out of bed to check who was foolish enough to knock on someone’s door in the middle of the night, hoping that what news he was about to receive was anything but bad. 

“Yes, yes, what is it this-?” He groused, blinking fully awake when he looked down and took in his visitor. “Bilbo!”

The little hobbit grinned brightly at him, thankfully dressed properly for the chilly night. “Good evening, Uncle Bofur!”

Bofur let out a strangled noise, because the last person he expected to see at his door in the middle of the night was Thorin’s son. He checked to see if Thorin was nearby, and cursed in Khuzdul when he wasn’t.

“Well, I daresay it’s good, or that it’s evening.” Bofur said, hands on his hips. “What in Mahal’s name are you doing here so late? And get inside! It’s bloody freezing!”

“I came because I had a question!” Bilbo said, walking inside. “I was going to go straight back after! I swear!”

“Well, lad, it’s far too late, or early rather, to be answering questions.” Bofur stated.

“But it’s really important!”

“Nothing’s too important to wait for a decent hour, Bilbo.” He groused, scrubbing his face. “And please don’t tell me you slipped out without your papa knowing…”

“Okay, I won’t.” Bilbo replied innocently, causing Bofur to groan.

There was some more shuffling, and Bofur looked up to see Bifur. His cousin’s eyes widened at the sight of the young hobbit near their door, and he grumbled out a few words in question.

“He says he has a question, and I’m sure Thorin’s awake and scared to death because his boy’s missing.” Bofur replied, looking down at the rather guilty-looking hobbit. “Don’t worry, lad. You’re not in too much trouble. Just let me get dressed and I’ll escort you back. You don’t know what kind of sort are lurking around the shadows at this time of night.”

“But what about my question?” Bilbo asked as Bofur began to head back to his room.

“Later!” The miner replied, turning to his cousin. “Keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t slip away.”

Bifur nodded sharply and Bofur disappeared into his room. The toymaker walked over, kneeling next to the boy and firing off a few simple signs. Signs that Bilbo had been learning about.

“It’s a secret.” Bilbo replied in a whisper to Bifur’s question. He spoke clearly despite his soft voice, and the dwarf nodded. The little hobbit looked around before leaning towards Bifur’s ear, which he tilted towards the boy to better hear him. “I’m trying to get Uncle Bofur and Papa Thorin married. Don’t tell anyone!”

Bifur chuckled, loud and high, before he could stop himself. He beamed down at the boy before ruffling his hair and gently nudging their foreheads together, ever mindful of the axe in his head.

He signed to Bilbo that he wished him luck, and Bilbo beamed. “Thank you!”

By the time they were finished with their secret conversation, Bofur had come back, fully dressed and tugging at his hair, trying to get it to look relatively decent.

“Okay, Bilbo,” He stated, taking his cloak off the rack and putting it around his shoulders. “Let’s get you back home.”

Bilbo sighed, a little dejected, but nodded. “Okay…”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, alright?” Bofur told his cousin. “If anything, Bombur and Glendil are right in that room. If you need anything, go to them, okay?”

Bifur nodded, hoping that he wouldn’t see his cousin until the morning, if things went to Bilbo’s plans. 

“See you soon!”

“Bye, Uncle Bifur! Nice seeing you!”

Bofur tugged Bilbo along by the hand he had clasped in his own, eyes watching the streets as they hurried along. He knew his friend Nori had a heavy amount of influence, so he hoped no one would try anything against them. Still, not everyone listened to him, and many others had no qualms against harming a child.

“Uncle Bofur,” Bilbo piped up after a while. “Do you like my papa?”

Bofur spared a glance towards the boy and snorted. “Of course I like your papa, Bilbo.” He said, a tired grin on his face despite himself. “I like both of you very much.”

He expected Bilbo would be pleased, but the boy only huffed. “I don’t mean like that!” He stated. “I meant, do you _like_ him?”

Bofur almost froze completely, feeling that painful, yet familiar squeeze in his chest. Certainly, Bilbo wasn’t asking _that_ kind of question. Was he?

“H-How do you mean, Bilbo?” He asked softly, cursing how his voice waivered. 

“Would you want to marry him?”

He laughed despite himself, rubbing his face as he considered the boy holding his hand. Really, he should’ve known he was too obvious. And if Bilbo noticed, Thorin was bound to. It was something he dared not speak to anyone about, especially to the man in question. It was a ridiculous thing, falling for a man so far out of his status that it was laughable. It was something he would never try to act on, for he knew nothing would come of it.

“Not marry, Bilbo. Mostly because I don’t think I’ve known your papa long enough to know that.” Bofur eventually answered, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “But… But I do care about him very much. I would like to see if I want to marry him, but that’ll never happen, for many reasons.”

Bilbo was frowning a little, and Bofur gently squeezed his hand. “Does that answer your question?”

“I guess so.”

“Well, then let’s hurry you on home.” Bofur stated, urging Bilbo to walk faster. “I’m sure Thorin’s getting ready to tear this town apart to find you.”

When they arrived at his home, Bofur was fairly certain he was right. There was a faint glow coming from the windows, and he could clearly hear Thorin shouting from several paces away. He had to knock on the door a few times before he heard Thorin approach.

“… And I can’t believe that he- Bofur!” Thorin shouted, eyes wide in surprise when he tore the door open and saw the miner on the other side. “What are you doing here so late at…?”

Bofur directed his gaze down towards Bilbo as he spoke, and he noticed how Thorin eased when he finally saw his little boy there.

“Bilbo!” Thorin cried, immediately scooping him up. He held him tight for a few minutes before pulling back. “What in The Maker’s name were you thinking!? Do you know how worried I was? When Fíli barged in and told me you were missing, my heart almost stopped!”

“I’m sorry papa!”

“What were you thinking?” Thorin continued. “Do you know how foolish it was to go wandering out so late at night!?”

“But papa-!” Bilbo cried, only to be cut off when Thorin tucked his head under his chin.

“I’m not angry at you, Bilbo, but you can never do that again!” Thorin continued. “I was getting ready to go find Dwalin in case someone took you and we had to get you back!”

“But-!”

“No buts!” The dwarf stated, looking towards Bofur finally. “Thank you so much for finding him and bringing him back.”

“Well, it’s the least I could do.” Bofur replied, grinning. “Of course, it’s becoming a habit, me bringing Bilbo back once he wanders off. Maybe third time’s the charm when he eventually decides it’s not smart.”

Thorin huffed, adjusting his hold on his boy. “Well, hopefully it won’t be happening again.” He stated firmly. “Wherever did you find him?”

“He was at mine.” Bofur explained. “He came to my house.”

Thorin frowned, clearly confused. “What for?”

“I had a question, papa!” Bilbo finally piped up, pulling his head from its place. “I really wanted the answer, so I went to see Uncle Bofur!”

“What sort of question couldn’t wait until a reasonable hour, Bilbo?” Thorin asked him.

“A really important one! One I asked for you!” 

Now Bofur was confused. “What question would he ask for you?”

“Whether or not he liked you back!”

As soon as the words left Bilbo’s mouth, Bofur immediately felt the world drop from under him. He didn’t even pick up the full sentence. Just realized that Bilbo had found out about his feelings towards his papa, and was immediately divulging them. That Bofur’s night was going to be one of the worst nights possible. It was going to be the night his heart would break.

Thorin’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “Pardon?”

“He likes you back, papa!” Bilbo cheered. “I asked him if he did, and he does! Granted, he doesn’t want to marry you yet, but I’m sure he’ll want to some day!”

Thorin felt something tighten in his chest, for how did Bilbo ever think of such things? Of course, the boy was young, and knew nothing of the world. Didn’t know that a poor crownless king had nothing to offer a miner, and that said miner didn’t want something like that from him. Because a miner like Bofur deserved the best, and Thorin certainly wasn’t.

He was about to brush the entire matter off, tell Bofur to forget the entire thing, call it a child’s folly, and wish him a goodnight. But he looked at Bofur, then. Saw how his face was pale with blotches of red. Saw how he seemed absolutely terrified. Saw how it almost looked like Bilbo told Thorin something Bofur had said in confidence.

A hope that Thorin had buried ages ago crept to the surface as he regarded the miner, and he finally decided that, no matter what, he had to know the truth.

“Fíli, Kíli,” He called towards his nephews that were in the hall, staying with him as his mother was on business. “Take Bilbo to bed. I’m going to have a chat with Bofur.”

Fíli took Bilbo from Thorin with little noise and watched as his uncle stepped out and closed the door behind him.

The blonde frowned, looking down at his cousin. “What did you do?”

“I’m trying to help get Papa married to Uncle Bofur!” Bilbo stated. “I… I don’t know if it worked… Do you think it worked?”

“Can’t tell.” Kíli answered, and Fíli looked at his brother as he knelt on the couch and peered through the curtains. “They’re still just talking.”

“Don’t you want to give them privacy?” Fíli chided, even as Bilbo squirmed in his hold.

“Well, I want to see if Bilbo did any good!” His brother replied. “I mean, come on! They’ve been at it for _decades_!”

“I wanna see! I wanna see!” Bilbo cried, only to get shushed by Kíli as he crawled onto the couch.

“You can see, but you have to be quiet!” Kíli hissed, turning back to the window and allowing Bilbo to squirm into place in front of his chest as they peered at the couple by the door. “Their conversation is quiet, at least. No shouting or crying, even though poor Bof looks close to tears.”

“Can you blame him?” Fíli asked, taking a seat at the couch. “He’s been hiding it! Granted, Thorin couldn’t give a lick, but Bofur thinks he’d want nothing to do with ‘a commoner’.”

“You mean like you and Ori?” Kíli teased, grinning even as he still kept watch and missing how his brother went crimson.

“You shut it.” Fíli snapped. “What’s going on out there?”

Bilbo answered when horror dawned on his face. “No-!” He began to cry, only to have Kíli cover his mouth with his hand.

“ _Quiet_!” The dwarf hissed in whisper. “If they find out we’re watching, we’ll get in trouble!”

“Why? What happened?” Fíli demanded, kneeling up and trying to peek himself.

“Bofur was shrugging uncle off and was starting to walk away.” Kíli explained, face tight. “I don’t think that- Oh!”

Kíli’s and Bilbo’s eyes widened, and Fíli couldn’t take the suspense anymore. He managed to get behind his brother and peer out himself in time to see his uncle rush after Bofur and grab his arm, steering him around to look at him.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. “Do you think-?”

“I don’t know. Could be?”

“Does that mean my plan worked?” Bilbo finally managed to ask after he got Kíli’s hand away from his mouth, only to have another one cover his eyes.

“Yeah, Bilbo.” He replied with a small grin. “Your little plan worked. A little too well, actually.”

“Really!?” Bilbo asked excitedly, beaming despite being blinded. “Then why can’t I see?”

Kíli cringed when he looked back out the window, seeing his uncle and Bofur wrapped around each other. “This isn’t something for children to see.” He explained, pulling Bilbo away from the window and, with Fíli, began to lead him to their room. They were spending the night under the same roof with Bilbo, after all, and they loved to cuddle with their cousin.

“So you think they’re going to get married?” The boy asked as he allowed the older boys to lead him down the hall.

“Well, let’s put it this way, Bilbo,” Fíli explained with a wink. “If they play their cards right, they’ll be getting married next autumn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I shall go on to the original point of this fic: Bilbo meeting the other members of the company.


	9. Scribe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo meets Ori.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone said they wanted to see Bilbo with a puppy crush. I thought, "Well, if wee!Bilbo had a puppy crush on anyone, it would totes be Ori".
> 
> This chapter's probably shit, but I shouldn't write around the holidays. :/

It started when Master Balin was called away on business not even midway through his lessons. Since the dwarf valued knowledge, much to Bilbo’s dismay, Balin had asked for his apprentice to step in and take over. It wasn’t that Bilbo hated lessons, because he liked learning about Khuzdul and history, but it was a beautiful day outside, the first in a while, and he desperately wanted to go play. Not to mention that Bilbo had never met Balin’s apprentice, young Master Ori, before. He had heard plenty about him, but that was it. He was nervous, and was afraid that this new dwarf would hate him (there weren’t many dwarrows that hated him, but there were some who whispered). 

“He’s so small!”

Bilbo blinked, turning his head to see Balin talking to someone in hushed tones, and he felt his little heart pound with nerves. The newcomer was a bundle of knitwear and red hair, curled around a large tome as he listened to Bilbo’s teacher with a flush blooming on his cheeks. Eventually, Balin tugged the red-haired dwarf over to where Bilbo sat, smiling all the while. 

“Bilbo, this is Master Ori.” Balin greeted, nodding towards the flushing dwarf. “Ori, this is Bilbo Baggins. I want you both to be on your best behavior while I’m gone.”

Bilbo blinked, feeling his cheeks flare up at the attention. “Pleasure to meet you, Master Ori.”

Said dwarf gave him a small smile in return. “Pleasure to meet you as well, Bilbo.” He replied.

As Balin spoke to Ori quietly some more, Bilbo couldn’t help but marvel at the red-haired dwarf. He was used to seeing dwarrows with large noses and interesting hair and beard styles, but he hardly ever saw a dwarf with such short hair, let alone a dwarf with _freckes_. 

After a few parting words, Ori turned back to Bilbo and fidgeted. 

“Well, this shall be fun!” He said, voice cracking a little. “Fíli and Kíli talk about you a lot. All good things, I assure you. Now tell me, what are you and Master Balin working on in regards to your… er… letters?”

“We’re on possessive pronouns, right now.” Bilbo explained, fidgeting, because with Khuzdul, that was where he was having trouble. 

“Really?” Ori breathed, truly shocked. “But… But Master Balin said you’ve only been under his tutelage for a few months!”

“It’s… it’s not really… is it?” Bilbo stuttered shyly as Ori beamed at him.

“Oh, it’s quite impressive. Especially for someone who wasn’t born into our race!” Ori said, grabbing a chair and sitting across from him. “Tell you what: We’ll practice that for a while and, if you’re really good, we can go out to play. How does that sound?”

Bilbo beamed. “That sounds lovely!”

**x**

By the time they got outside, their time was almost up, and Bilbo was almost completely, wholeheartedly in love. 

Ori was one of the most amazing people, dwarrow or otherwise, that Bilbo had encountered since Thorin found him in the woods. He had the sweetest laugh, the smartest mind, and a true appreciation for flowers and the outdoors. He even had quite the interest in hobbits and their own culture, even though Bilbo’s knowledge was rather frayed at best. Something that wasn’t too terrible, in his opinion.

It was just a shame that their time had to fly by so swiftly, for before Bilbo knew it, Fíli and Kíli were strolling up the path, waving at them.

“Hello, Bilbo!” Kíli jeered, hoisting Bilbo up into his arms when he was close enough. “Sorry Thorin couldn’t be here. Business came up, I’m afraid.”

“Really? For Master Thorin as well?” Ori asked. “Master Balin had business himself. It’s why I’m here.”

“He’s already got you teaching others, Ori?” Fíli asked, beaming at him. “Looks like you’re moving up in the world.”

Ori flushed. “Well, I guess so…”

“Yeah, just like I said he would.” The blonde mused aloud, causing Bilbo to frown and Kíli to scoff.

“Well, we’ve got to get Bilbo back home.” The young prince cut in, smiling at Bilbo. “Thorin made us biscuits, apparently.”

Bilbo’s frown deepened. “Really?”

“Apparently, he followed mom’s recipe to the tee.”

The little hobbit’s expression lightened greatly at that. “Oh, I can’t wait!”

They all laughed, Ori walking up to where Kíli stood to ruffle Bilbo’s hair.

“It was great helping you today, Bilbo.” The scribe said. “I hope to see you again soon.”

Bilbo beamed, even as his cousins said their own parting words. As they began to walk home, he realized he wanted to say one final thing.

“Master Ori!” He called over Kíli’s shoulder, causing the scribe to look at him. “I’m going to marry you someday!”

Ori giggled, high and loud, even as he flushed brightly and as Fíli sputtered in disbelief nearby. 

Instead of a rejection, or some silly, cooing words, Ori continued to wave to him in parting. 

“We’ll see, Master Hobbit.” He called back. “We shall see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will this become a Bilbo/Fíli/Ori love triangle/OT3 fic!? Probably not.


	10. Scribe Extra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is not amused while Dwalin very much is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I'VE BEEN GONE FOR SO LONG AGAIN. THE INTERNET WAS BEING A MAJOR DOUCHE.

“It’s not funny.”

Dwalin barely managed to control his mad cackling enough to sent Thorin a pointed, yet teary-eyed look. “I hate to break it to you,” He sputtered. “But it really is-!”

He broke into another peel of laughter, even as he felt Thorin’s glare burn his skin. If Dwalin were being honest, he felt like his old friend was taking this new knowledge far too seriously, just like Fíli.

Then again, it was hard to take the fact that Thorin’s son, wee little Bilbo, had developed his first crush seriously. 

He was just glad no one was actually teasing Bilbo about it, yet, but he had a feeling that there would be some teasing sometime in the near future. Possibly from Kíli, who was currently teasing his brother over his sulking. 

“ _No_ , Dwalin.” Thorin practically ground out. “It really isn’t. Bilbo is far too young to be developing such feelings, especially towards his tutors.”

“Think of it from my perspective, then.” Dwalin said after he remembered how to breathe normally. “At least it’s Ori and not my brother.”

If anything, that only made Thorin’s glare worse.

“I think you’re taking it a wee bit too seriously.” Dwalin continued. “Bilbo is as you said he is: He’s young. A wee faunt who has just developed his first little crush. Nothing will come of it, and when he’s older, he’ll probably look back on it and laugh a little, possibly get a little embarrassed. He might not even remember it unless someone would bring it up.”

Thorin scoffed. “I don’t think anyone is taking this situation seriously enough.”

“Thorin,” Dwalin chided. “If we all continued to after those we developed wee crushes, I’d be married to that baker from the kitchens, and you’d be my brother-in-law.”

A flush spread on Thorin’s cheeks at those words. 

“Now, stop worrying about it.” The warrior continued. “He’ll move on soon enough.”

There was a moment of silence as they both regarded Thorin’s nephews as they began to wrestle outside. Clearly, Thorin was mulling over Dwalin’s words, and Dwalin himself was trying to ignore how his sides ached. 

“It’s just…” Thorin spoke up after a moment. “He’s… He’s just so _young_ …”

“He’s not that young.” Dwalin reminded him as Thorin let out a sigh.

“He’s barely over ten, Dwalin.”

“He’ll be twelve, soon.”

“How in the world did he grow up so fast, without my knowing?”

“Because he’s your boy.” The warrior reminded him. “He’s the little one you found and took in as your own. The one you raised and helped heal. He’s your babe, blood or no. No one wants to be reminded that their child is growing up.”

Thorin’s lips were stretched thin. “First, he wants to learn how to fight. Then, Balin tells me he’s doing exceedingly well with his lessons. Now this.” He muttered. “Soon enough he’ll actually be interested in courting. Soon he’ll have _suitors_.”

“May the Valar protect those foolish to try.” Dwalin cut in, glad that such words made Thorin’s lips quirk up in a small smile.

“I just hope he doesn’t grow up and away from me.”

Dwalin looked at his friend then. He knew that Thorin didn’t take too kindly to the knowledge of a hobbit’s short lifespan. Didn’t like to be reminded that Bilbo would probably be old and gray around the same time Thorin would be. That there was a chance that Thorin would outlive him. And Thorin desperately wanted to hold on to Bilbo and cherish him for as long as he could, and the mere thought of him having someone else so important in his life was terrifying.

“You’ll always have a place in Bilbo’s heart.” Dwalin eventually told him. “You’re his Papa, after all. Such a thing is hard to forget for someone like our wee flint.”

“I hope you’re right.” Thorin muttered.

“I know I’m right.” Dwalin affirmed, seeing from the corner of his eyes that the subject of their conversation was walking over to them. “He’ll prove it to you soon enough.”

“Papa?” Bilbo piped up, causing Thorin to jump slightly and look towards him.

“Bilbo, lad, you startled me!” Thorin said, even as he took Bilbo’s hands in his.

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” He replied, hoisting Bilbo up into his arms with well-practiced ease. “Now, what seems to be the trouble?”

“All the biscuits are gone.”

Thorin frowned, sending Dwalin a look. “Is that so?”

“Well!” The warrior cut in as both father and child stared at him. “I’ll just… break up the lads’ fight, over there. I think I see Kíli trying to rip Fíli’s moustache off his face, there.”

As Dwalin marched over to the wrestling brothers, noting how Thorin held Bilbo close, he had a feeling that they didn’t have to worry about much. Bilbo would always be Bilbo, and Thorin would always be Thorin. They would cherish what moments they had, and all will be well.

And hopefully he would live to see it before Thorin tries to hunt him down over the pilfered biscuits.


	11. Arranged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gloin thinks he's a matchmaker, despite what everyone else says. And he sees quite the match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this idea for a while now. Don't ask me why~

Gloin considered himself quite the matchmaker, despite his brother’s words and his wife’s repeated tales of how he had no idea what love was unless someone smashed him in the face with it (something she did literally, which was how they began their courtship). He could see a good match from miles away, and usually guessed correctly when he asked around about specific pairs and their marital statuses. He even helped some friends with finding partners, and was pleased when most worked out well. 

He hoped Thorin would have more faith in his senses over such things, moreso than his immediate family at least. It was why he made sure to bring Gimli with him on his visit to the King’s home so his son could play with Thorin’s own. For he had a plan to make a perfect match, in almost every sense of the word.

“It seems your boy is quite fond of my Gimli.” He mused aloud, watching the boys play.

“They do seem to be quite good… friends…” Thorin replied, and Gloin didn’t notice his cringe when Gimli didn’t seem to understand why Bilbo put a crown of flowers on his head.

“Yes, indeed.” He continued, turning to Thorin. “Perhaps, when they’re older, they’ll be much more than that.”

Gloin watched Thorin’s back straighten, and he knew he had to be careful. 

“Your son has proven that he is one of the brightest dwarrow minds outside of a dwarrow body in ages.” He continued. “Many of our people adore him, despite him being an outsider. While Gimli is still young, he will grow to be a great warrior, and he will defend Bilbo until his last breath. Of course, such marriages shouldn’t be arranged now, for they are still young, but perhaps in a few decades we might be able to unite our boys.”

Thorin’s lips were thinned, but Gloin hoped that he saw his way. Not only did he think that Gimli would grow to truly love Bilbo, and vice versa, but it was quite the political match as well. Both their families would gain from it exponentially, that he was sure.

“I can’t allow it.” Unfortunately, he still needed to persuade Thorin of the fact.

“N-Now, I’m not saying you have to give an answer now!” Gloin assured. “Please, think on it! Give it a night or two! I’m sure-!”

“Gloin,” Thorin cut in, looking at the dwarf. “While I see that your actions and words are… amenable, I’m afraid I can’t allow it on good conscious.”

Gloin frowned. Did Thorin think that his Gimli was an ill match? Such a thing was impossible, for they were practically perfect for each other! Sure, Bilbo had a worrying affinity for green things, but Gimli didn’t seem to mind it at all.

Gloin was about to try a different tactic before Thorin raised a hand to silence him. “Before you continue, I must ask you this:” The King stated. “How old do you think Bilbo is?”

Gloin frowned, for that wasn’t a question he was considering. “Er… Well, judging by his size and his proficiency in literature, I would say at least…” He drawled, pausing to really think. “Thirty? Thirty five?”

“Bilbo is fifteen years old.”

He was gobsmacked. “W-How? That is not possible!”

“He is a hobbit, my friend. His kind ages differently.” Thorin explained. “In fact, as I’ve been told, the average lifespan of someone like Bilbo is roughly one-hundred years.”

“Such a short life…” Gloin whispered, almost horrified. “If… if that were true, then…!”

“I will possibly outlive my own son. Yes, Gloin, I know this.” Thorin cut in, and from his expression, such knowledge upset him greatly. “I would not have your son tied to mine and have him pass on when Gimli would still have quite a while to live. I would not have him mourn my son for the rest of his long life. Not like that. Not in the same vain as I probably will.”

Gloin felt the mood shift around them, even as they continued to watch their children play. It was almost strange to see them have fun, completely unaware of the conversation they were having.

“I apologize.” He finally said. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have tried to-.”

“Peace, friend.” Thorin cut in, throwing Gloin a tight smile. “If they happen to fall in love and wish to marry regardless, I will give my blessing. But only then.”

“Of course.” Gloin assured, giving Thorin his own smile and daring to pat his shoulder. “Until then, we shall love them while we can.”

Thorin nodded, the sadness in his eyes lessening, but still lingering. “Of course.”


	12. Theft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori's in jail, Dori curses, and Bilbo's first attempts at burglary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Ri brothers shenanigans!

Dori hummed a simple tune as he set about preparing lunch. Ori was due to be back from his lessons with Master Balin soon enough, and his youngest brother had informed him that he was most likely bringing Bilbo along with him.

The thought of the little hobbit coming by brought a smile to his face. Despite having to basically father both his brothers, he loved children dearly. He would take any chance he could to dote and play with any of them that had come under his care. Bilbo was practically the image of a perfect child, always polite and thankful, always on his best behavior. He adored Bilbo’s visits most of all, and even found the little crush he had on Ori adorable instead of concerning. It was something every child went through, and it was bound to pass some time or another. And in Dori’s mind, Ori couldn’t have found a better admirer.

But when Ori entered the house, sans Bilbo, Dori couldn’t help but frown. For Ori looked properly concerned, and was lacking one houseguest he was looking forward to having.

“What’s wrong?” He asked Ori as he set his things down. “Where’s Bilbo?”

Ori let out a sharp gust of air. “He met Nori.”

The curses that flew out of Dori’s mouth that day would be heard by all of their neighbors, who only shook their heads and went about their business.

The eldest Ri brother cursing about one of his family wasn’t as shocking as it probably should be.

**x**

Nori being in a cell wasn’t necessarily a surprising turn of events. He took it all in stride, really, stretching out on the bench and waiting for his brothers to arrive, Ori paying the bail and Dori chewing his ear out. 

What _was_ surprising was the little hobbit with dwarrow braids rushing up to his cell.

“Psst! Master Nori!” He had whispered as he pressed himself against the bars. “It’s me, Bilbo!”

Nori stared at the child, remembering his name quite clearly, for he was the reason why he was caught and thrown into the cell in the first place. He met the wee thing when he was with Ori, and after some conversing, Bilbo took to accompanying him in the market. Somehow, their innocent conversation turned to something not-so-innocent, and the thief took to showing the interested child how he got extra money. Cue the guards and him getting caught, all the while making sure Bilbo was far away from the line of fire.

Clearly, Bilbo didn’t take the hint that he shouldn’t follow Nori the rest of the way.

“Yes, Bilbo, I see you, lad.” Nori finally whispered, sitting up. “You shouldn’t be here! Your parents will be ever so cross if they found out.”

“My papa.” Bilbo corrected. “And it’s my fault you’re in here in the first place!”

“How did you get in here, anyway?”

The boy shrugged. “Same way I sneak out of lessons to play with my cousins.” He replied. “It’s pretty easy, actually. I’m not that much smaller than the others, but it’s no that hard to slip around some guards just by ducking.”

Nori couldn’t help but snort, rubbing his face. “Well, that’s quite clever, Bilbo.” He said. “But I don’t think they’ll let me out just because you said it was your fault.”

“That’s why I got these!” Bilbo stated, and lo, he held up his hand to show Nori he had pinched the keys as well.

“Bilbo!” Nori hissed. “Look, I’m proud of you of getting this far and getting those, but you can’t do that! I’m here for a reason! I can’t just break out with your assistance!”

“But-!”

“I appreciate it, Bilbo, I really do, but I can’t do that.” He continued. “You better get out of here before you get into trouble.”

“He’s already in trouble.”

Both dwarf and hobbit looked to see Dwalin stroll in, arms crossed and frowning.

“Master Dwalin!” Bilbo cried. “Oh, um… Wait, is papa…?”

Dwalin merely stepped to the side, revealing Thorin standing there, looking equally as displeased as Dwalin.

“Bilbo,” Thorin began. “Do you mind telling me why you snuck into the prison, stole the guard’s keys, and went to try and break Master Nori here out of jail when he committed a crime?”

“Papa, please! It wasn’t Master Nori’s fault!” Bilbo pleaded. “I asked him to teach me, and that’s all he did! I swear he was going to give it back afterwards!”

Thorin’s frown only deepened. “It won’t do you any good to try and take the blame for Master Nori’s actions, Bilbo.” He scolded. “He has done such things before. It is no surprise to any of us that it would happen again as soon as he returned to the mountains.”

Nori fought down a cringe as Thorin spoke those words. Despite it being truth, it didn’t lessen the sting. It didn’t help matters that he had to learn such a craft in order to help his brothers. Thorin might suffer a hard life just like anyone, but he couldn’t understand how hard it was to find work when you’re a bastard son.

“But it’s true!” Bilbo said, head ducking. “I… I asked because… Because…”

He began to sniffle, and Nori fought another cringe. It was one thing to deal with biting words, but another to deal with crying children. 

“I asked because Faín stole my dragon toy!” Bilbo finally confessed. “I wanted to learn how to steal it back, and Master Nori promised to teach me!”

Dwalin’s brow furrowed. “The toy Bifur gave you?” He muttered. “Lady Felyn’s boy stole it?”

“You said you sold it to help buy Kíli sweets.” Thorin argued, his own brow furrowed. 

“I lied.” Bilbo muttered dejectedly. “I just… I didn’t want to get him into trouble, and I didn’t want to bother you over it. It’s… It’s just a toy, but…”

Thorin let out a deep breath through his nose before turning to look up to Nori. “Does he speak the truth?”

“He does.” Nori admitted. “And I really was going to return his purse. I chose him because he hardly ever has anything in it.”

Thorin gave a sharp nod before Dwalin leaned over to whisper into his ear.

“You’re not seriously considering believing all that, are you?” The large dwarf growled. “He’s had better stories.”

“Yes, but he’s got Bilbo involved, and he only ever lies to protect those his age.” Thorin argued. “Not to mention I was always skeptical about that sweets story… Bilbo loved that toy, after all. Wouldn’t part from it for the world.”

Bilbo sniffled some more. “Can… Can you please let Master Nori go, now?” He asked. “I… I’ll go in his stead.”

Thorin huffed a little before picking his boy up. “You’re not going to jail, Bilbo. You will be punished for trying to learn how to steal, and trying to break someone out of jail. But I think something as simple as no desserts for a week and an early bedtime will suffice.” He said, wiping a few stray tears from Bilbo’s cheeks. “As for Faín, I can talk to his mother-.”

“No!” Bilbo cried. “Please, don’t do that! He-If you do that, it’ll only get worse! He’ll try stealing my beads! He’ll tell his mum I kicked him!”

“Alright, alright! I won’t talk to her!” Thorin assured. “Mahal knows she wouldn’t heed a word I would say, anyhow. Woman was always bitter.”

“Not your fault she fell for a dwarrow who liked hammers more than caves.” Dwalin muttered, even as Thorin glared at him and Bilbo frowned in confusion. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” He asked, but Thorin shook his head.

“That’s a conversation for another day. Now,” He said, turning to Nori in his cell. “If all that is true, I will consider convincing the guards to let you go on a technicality.”

“I don’t need your pity, Your Highness.” Nori growled, even as Thorin quirked an eyebrow.

“Truly? You are the one stuck there. And I heard that your brothers were on their way, and I’d think you’d want to save your ears.” He said, and he smirked when Nori couldn’t fight the cringe this time. “So, I shall help in getting you released, but you must repay me.”

“Whatever you wish, Master Oakenshield.”

Thorin merely beamed at Nori’s sneer. “I merely ask for one simple favor. One that shall be easy for you to accomplish.”

**x**

When Dori arrived to fetch Nori and Ori fussed with the bail money, they were both surprised to see that their brother was already out with little fuss.

“It was a misunderstanding.” The thief had answered Dori’s questions shortly. “Bilbo was a witness to it.”

Dori didn’t really want to believe him, but Bilbo looked rather upset tucked away under Thorin’s chin, so he let it go. He had asked if they wanted tea, but they declined.

“Bilbo’s not feeling well, I’m afraid.” Thorin had explained. “We’ll be going straight home.”

And when, a few days later, Thorin opened his door to find a lone dragon toy on his doorstep, he merely brought it inside without another thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to think that Nori teaches Bilbo all there is to know about thievery in this verse, and is a mixture of disappointed and grateful that he doesn't do much with his skills. Reason for that? Thorin.


	13. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo worries, Thorin panics, and Dís cackles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess where this is going?

Bilbo hardly ever turned to Dís without good reason.

It wasn’t like Bilbo disliked her or vice versa. He saw her often enough, they played often enough, for whatever issues that had existed towards the beginning of their familial relationship to be resolved or to fade away. Dís had a feeling that what transpired between Bilbo and his previous guardians had something to do with it. She also had a feeling it was also her boys’ doing. Despite how well they got along now, though, Bilbo hardly ever went to her unless something was wrong and he couldn’t go to anyone else.

So the dwarrowdam was very much concerned when, upon answering the door, she found the hobbit at her doorstep. He looked so very confused and distraught that she immediately ushered him inside without a word. Didn’t bother to ask him if he wanted anything to eat or drink. Just sat him down and before taking a seat next to him.

“What’s wrong, Bilbo?” She asked as soon as they were settled. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Auntie Dís.” He immediately replied, and it didn’t sound at all sincere, and it did little to ease her nerves.

“Are you sure?” She pressed. “Did something happen to you?”

He shook his head, so she continued. “What about Fíli and Kíli? No?” She asked, still seeing Bilbo shake his head. “Thorin?”

Bilbo had paused then, and she tried to not sound too authoritative. “What’s wrong with Thorin?”

“It’s… It’s not just Papa…” Bilbo muttered. “It’s… It’s with Uncle Bofur, too…”

Dís had to fight back a string of curses, because a lot of things ran through her mind. She had to watch her brother pine over the miner for decades, even after she did all she could to try and get either of them to make a move. Now, they were together, and properly betrothed. If her brother had somehow mucked it up so bad that it had her adopted nephew worried, she was more than willing to take an axe to his head. 

“What’s wrong with them?” She asked instead. “Are they fighting?”

Bilbo frowned at her question, mulling it over. “I think so?” He asked, and whatever anger that had risen at the thought was dampened by his confusion. “I can’t really tell. They _seem_ happy, but…”

“But what?”

Dís watched him fidget. “I…” Bilbo muttered. “I hear shouting, sometimes, when they’re in their room. I can’t tell if they get angry, but… but it sounds like it’s _painful_ … But then I see them when they leave their room, and they’re very happy. I don’t… I don’t know what happens, but…”

There was relief found in his words, and a good deal of it. For clearly Thorin and Bofur weren’t fighting, or at least, not much. In fact, it sounded like things were going very well, still.

Then Dís looked at Bilbo, for he seemed truly worried. The poor boy didn’t know that the only problems going on between the two were that they couldn’t keep it in their pants. Or keep it down. Or both.

“There’s nothing wrong, Bilbo.” She soothed. “I know it sounds scary, but many people who love each other partake in such things.”

“Why would they do that if it’s painful?”

Dís frowned. “I’m not the person who can answer that for you, dear. Only your Papa and Uncle Bofur can.” 

Because there was no way she was going to explain how sex worked for the third time in a row when Thorin dodged the projectiles with her boys. Now it was _his_ turn to squirm.

**xxx**

“What we just did should be illegal.”

Thorin heard Bofur snort into his pillow before he felt his betrothed drape himself over his back. It was a sensation he was quite used to by now, but he still rather enjoyed it.

“I think it is in some Kingdoms, actually.” Bofur muttered, and Thorin snorted himself, laughing as he felt his hair being brushed away so a whiskery kiss could be placed on his neck. It took some doing, but Thorin managed to turn over to be able to grab a fistful of Bofur’s hair and drag him down for a proper kiss.

“As lovely as this is,” He heard Bofur mumble against his lips. “Aren’t the boys coming over soon?”

“Not for a while.” Thorin replied, humming when he felt far-too-clever fingers stroke him from chest to belly and back up again. “Fíli and Kíli have lessons with Ori, and Bilbo’s out practicing with Dwalin.”

“I hope he’s taking it easy on the boy.” 

“He better.” Thorin muttered, grunting. “I don’t think we should be talking about them with your hand on my stones.”

“Then let’s stop talking.” Bofur told him, and Thorin was very much okay with that suggestion. Only, they were disrupted by a rather loud knocking sound coming from the front door. “Oh! They’re early, then.”

Thorin just frowned, sitting himself up. “They would never knock.”

They exchanged a look before they quickly threw their clothes back on, the knocking continuing and becoming more insistent by the second.

“Yes, yes! We hear you!” Bofur called, leading the charge with his hat askew and yanking the door open. “What can we do- Oo!”

He had cut himself off, because he was not expecting such a sight. The sight being Dís, Thorin’s sister, with Bilbo at her side.

And he was only at her side if there was a problem.

“Milady!” Bofur greeted, tugging his hat off and trying to smooth out his hair. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.”

“Bofur, please. We’re to be siblings! Dís is fine.” She corrected, smiling a little. 

“Apologies, then Mi-… Dís…” He corrected. “I’m still trying to get used to it.”  
He then looked at Bilbo by her side and smiled. “Bilbo!” He greeted. “We weren’t expecting you for another hour or so. Did Dwalin let you off early?”

The hobbit fidgeted under Bofur’s gaze, and he grew concerned. He wanted to question it, but Thorin finally emerged.

“Sister, what are-Bilbo?” He asked, immediately rushing over. “Bilbo, what are you doing out of practice so early?”

Bilbo merely reached out for Thorin, and he stooped down and took his boy into an embrace immediately. It was then that Thorin noticed he was trembling. 

“Oh, Bilbo…” He spoke, doing his best to soothe as he moved to sit on the couch and leaving Bofur to deal with his sister. “Bilbo, what happened?”

“I…” The hobbit muttered, looking up at Thorin. “Are you okay, papa?”

He frowned at the question. “Why, yes. I’m fine.” He responded. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m hail and healthy, Bilbo.” He answered. “Why? Did someone tell you something?”

“Ah…”

Thorin turned from his boy to look at his intended. He took in Bofur’s strained, flushed face, and his concern doubled. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Er-Well… Apparently…” Bofur muttered. “Bilbo, here has… _heard_ us.”

Thorin felt his face go aflame, barely sparing Bilbo a glance. “And did Dís…?”

“No.” Bofur cut in, shaking his head quickly. “She told us that it was our job. And then she left.”

He immediately shot up from his seat, rushing towards the door. Because he could not do this. He could not talk to his son about this, let alone his nephews when they were coming of age.

“ _Dís_!”

All he got in response was a cackle from the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually nearing the end of this, as sad as it might seem. I kinda want to add one or two more chapters before I start adding on the chapters that will make up the end of Bilbo's early years. Still, it'll be sad to wrap this up, but on the other hand I CAN'T WAIT TO GET TO THE ENDING THAT I HAVE PLANNED!!!


	14. Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which marriage and bad news happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this done and decided, well, WHY NOT???

“I hate this.”

“You do not.”

Bilbo huffed, tugging fruitlessly at his garb. “I do, because simple, everyday garb is one thing. This, however, is ridiculous!” He stated. “I feel like I’m sitting in Mahal’s flaming charcoals with all these layers on!”

Kíli snorted. “It’s typical formal attire for dwarrows, and you know that.” He told his cousin from his chair. “You’re just not used to it.”

“I don’t think I ever want to be used to it.” Bilbo muttered, finally turning away from the mirror. “I mean, I look ridiculous!”

“You do not!” The dwarf insisted, standing and adjusting Bilbo’s shoulders. “You look every inch a proper dwarrow prince. Thorin will be proud.”

Bilbo flushed a little. “I hope he is…” He muttered. “Khagun… I don’t want to embarrass him. And I know he and Uncle Bofur spent so much already…”

“Everything will be _fine_.” Kíli continued. “It’s a family affair, this. Only we’ll be around. No formal dignitaries to wrinkle their noses at a speck of dust or whatever.”

Bilbo snorted, tugging on one of his braids. “It’s really happening…” He stated. “After so long…”

“And it’s all because of you.” Kíli stated, giggling at Bilbo’s flush as he clearly remembered what he did. “Now, come on. We have to help Thorin get ready.”

“He’s probably already pulled all his hair out by now.” His cousin muttered, following Kíli out of the room. “It’s a wedding, but he’s treating it like some war!”

“Let’s help him claim a victory then, shall we?”

**xxx**

The marriage between Thorin, Son of Thraín, Son of Thror; and Bofur, Son of Kofur, was a long-awaited, yet wonderful affair. Despite Thorin’s beliefs that something bad would happen, and Bofur having a few more drinks for courage than what was truly warranted, the entire thing went off without a hitch. It certainly helped when, upon meeting each other at the altar, everything seemed to fall into place. 

Bilbo was just happy that they were, and that two of his greatest parental figures had found something together that they wouldn’t of dared to find some years prior. He just didn’t think he was truly the cause of such a happy union, for he was just being a silly little kid. 

His family seemed to think otherwise. He still got teased over it. 

But now the wedding was over, and the next part was about to occur. Something that was going to be very hard to deal with. For Thorin, at least.

“I made sure that the pantry was well-stocked.”

“It’s practically overflowing! I do hope you didn’t do the same with the cold storage!”

“No, but the butcher isn’t that far.”

Bilbo bit back a sigh as he watched Thorin fuss. Thorin, his papa (or khagun, since he wasn’t a baby anymore), who was far more panicked about leaving the mountains to travel with Bofur. A romantic getaway, where they could be together with themselves without worrying about responsibilities. Something Thorin had a hard time with. Especially since that meant leaving Bilbo behind. 

In truth, Bilbo had been sighing a lot since they began arranging for their venture. For Thorin hardly travelled without his boy unless it was for work. Even then, they were small trips, and he was always back rather quickly. But Bilbo had just turned twenty some time ago, thirteen years until his majority. He was practically an adult, and he had been alone in the house for extended periods of time before. That, and he wasn’t like his cousins. He would manage just fine. 

“And you know where Dwalin is.” Thorin continued as Bilbo and Bofur both watched him fuss. “Even then, he-.”

“-Will be stopping in every once in a while. I know.” Bilbo cut in, stepping close and grabbing Thorin firmly by the arms. “Khagun, you need not worry. I will be _fine_. You’ll be back before you know it.”

Thorin sighed, and Bilbo allowed him to touch their foreheads together for what felt like the hundredth time. “Bilbo, my son…” He muttered. “How much you’ve grown. It was only yesterday that you were a wee flint.”

Bilbo fought down the urge to tell Thorin that he was beginning to repeat the speech he had made on Bilbo’s birthday. He was, thankfully, less tearful and more sober now.

“I will survive on my own, khagun.” He assured instead. “Don’t you worry.”

“I worry out of love. I’ve never left you alone for so long, before.” Thorin said with a sigh. After a moment, he turned to look at his new husband. “Are you sure we can’t take him with us?”

“ _No_.” Bofur and Bilbo both told him, the former laughing at Thorin’s rather put-out expression. 

“Thorin, azyungal, it will be fine.” Bofur continued, walking over to stroke Thorin’s back. “That, and I don’t think Bilbo would want to come with us, what with what we’ll be doing.”

“Oh, Mahal, don’t remind me!” Bilbo groaned, causing both dwarrows to laugh now. 

“Ah, Bilbo.” The miner continued, pulling Bilbo and Thorin both into an embrace. “Soon you will know exactly what we’re going through.”

“Not for a long time coming, I hope.” Thorin snarled, and Bilbo scoffed.

“If you had your way, I wouldn’t be courting until I was eighty!” He chided, and Thorin continued to growl and grumble, even as Bofur let him go to better embrace Bilbo.

“We’ll see you soon, Bilbo.” He told him. “Be good, and don’t get into trouble. And if Nori comes around and offers you _anything_ -!”

“I’ll decline. Yes, I know.” Bilbo told him. “Really, I’ll be fine. Now go! Go be romantic together so I won’t see it here!”

Bofur laughed, going back to the door, and Bilbo allowed Thorin to embrace him once again.

“I love you, Bilbo.” Thorin told him, voice raspy. “Stay safe.”

“I will, Thorin. Khagun, and I love you too.” Bilbo told him, squeezing him a little more before they finally pulled apart. 

He walked them to the gates, where their ponies and the rest of their family was waiting. They sent them off with shouts and well wishes (Kíli got slapped outside the head for wishing them the best of luck with having babies). And Bilbo stayed at the gate, even when they were long gone.

In truth, he was sure he would miss them the most.

**xxx**

Several days later, Bilbo didn’t even snarl when the front door just opened without the visitor knocking first. Instead, he merely set the table for four instead of one as his cousins and his tutor and friend, Dwalin, walked into the kitchen.

“I really wish you’d knock.” He told them as they took care of their wares. “I mean it. I could’ve been busy!”

“You have a routine, cousin.” Fíli told him. “We know you wouldn’t be busy.”

“Yeah.” Kíli butted in. “Not busy or _busy_.”

“And if you were that, I’d tan their hides.” Dwalin grumbled. “You’re far too young for that sort of frivolity.”

Bilbo felt his face heat, even has he fought his cousins away. He froze, however, when he saw that Dwalin was holding a rolled piece of parchment. “What’s that?” He asked. “A message? Don’t tell me khagun is already writing me!”

Fíli and Kíli immediately pulled back when Dwalin shook his head. “No.” The large dwarf stated, handing the parchment over. “It’s for you, but not from Thorin. It’s from the Shire.”

“What’s it about?” Bilbo asked, taking the parchment.

“We don’t know.” Fíli replied.

“We were waiting for you to read it.” Kíli continued. “It’s addressed to you, after all.”

Bilbo scoffed, unrolling the parchment. “How strangely considerate of you two.” He muttered, brushing off their sputtering. “Oh, you both know you rifle through everything, so don’t be too offended! Now sit and get started. I’ll just quickly read this through…”

They sat, but hardly tucked in. They set up their plates slowly as they watched Bilbo and waited for his reaction to what news he got from the Shire. Why it warranted a message instead of waiting to pass it on when they travelled there, no one knew.

It wasn’t until Bilbo collapsed into his seat that they realized how bad the news was.

“What happened?” Kíli asked immediately, trying to scoot close. “Bilbo?”

Bilbo, lips pressed tightly together, looked up at the three with watery eyes.

“It’s my grandfather, Gerontius.” He explained, voice raspy. “A… Apparently, he has fallen ill.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you couldn't tell by the age jump and the news, IT'S THE BEGINNING OF THE END!!!!
> 
> … OF THIS PART!!!
> 
> Did I not specify that I was going to keep going with this series? Oops. Well, I am! Because I'm sure I'm not the only one who wants Bilbo to come of age, for Thorin to go on a murderous rampage with suitors and the like, and so on and so forth.
> 
> SO YEAH JUST BECAUSE THIS MIGHT END DOESN'T MEAN IT'S OVER!!!
> 
> Also, I have some snippet ideas that I might add just because.


	15. Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo reflects.

It was the first time Bilbo ever went to the Shire without Thorin.

They had sent a missive to where Bofur and Thorin were going to be, but they were long gone from the Mountains by the time they would’ve gotten it. Not to mention that the weather was chaotic during their travels, and Bilbo didn’t want to think of what his khagun would say or do to try to get them to stay home. 

In the end, he was a little glad that Thorin wasn’t around to try and stop him. It was probably not a good thought, but at least Bilbo managed to see his grandfather before he passed away. 

All throughout the funeral, he couldn’t help but wish that he’d spent more time with Gerontius. Wished that he could’ve seen him more often than he did. Even if some of the old Took’s last words to him spoke nothing of regret. How he said that he was happy that Bilbo had grown up so well. How he was glad that he got to see him as much as he did, and that what time was lost was made up for by him leaving with a family that truly loved him. 

All those regrets coupled with the fact that Lotho was there made Bilbo wish that Thorin was as well, regardless of how he probably would’ve fought travelling so late in the year. 

In the end, he was just glad Lotho barely spared him a glance as Gerontius was lowered into the earth. That he was left alone by everyone save those he arrived with. That no one seemed to particularly mind that he skipped tea at the main Took house and returned home after only standing at his grandfather’s grave for what felt like hours. That he decided to sit and stay outside on the bench outside of Bag End for what seemed like longer.

“Bilbo?”

Said hobbit barely spared his cousins a glance, still staring out into the horizon. He knew that Fíli and Kíli both were standing at the door. That Dwalin probably sent them out to him, or just encouraged them.

“Bilbo, it’s going to be dark, soon.” Kíli continued. “It’ll be getting colder than it is now, and I don’t want to explain to uncle how we allowed you to get frostbite.”

He couldn’t help but scoff at Kíli’s words, at how ridiculous it was that the young dwarf was trying to distract him from his grief by some strange sense of humor.

“I’m not even trying to be funny.” He continued, and Bilbo finally looked at him. How he looked surprisingly stern and quite a bit concerned. “Bilbo, it’ll do no one any good if you sit out here any longer. You’ve skipped tea, dinner, and you’re about to miss supper. It’s not healthy.”

“I will not starve if I miss a few meals, Kíli.” Bilbo told him, not fighting when Kíli sat down next to him.

“But there’s a reason why hobbits eat seven meals a day.” The dwarf pressed. “Now, please?”

Bilbo didn’t answer, merely looking back towards the sunset. Knowing that night would come, followed by a new day. A day without his grandfather.

“Bilbo…”

He finally took a deep breath, feeling it shake his very bones as eyes began to well with tears he thought were long since dried up. “I wish I was here more.” He said. “I wish I could’ve spent more time with him. He was so worried about where I’d gone, or that I’d never come back.”

Kíli just watched him, his stern gaze falling away and his hands twitched. Like he wanted to hold Bilbo, but he was thankful that he didn’t try to just yet.

“I do not regret the family I have.” He continued, eyes burning as he looked to his cousin. “But I regret not being there when he needed me…”

Kíli embraced him then, merely pulling Bilbo into his chest and wrapping him up in his arms. He didn’t fight it, now even when he felt his cousin stroke his hand up and down his back for both comfort and warmth.

“I’m sure that your grandfather was just happy that you were.” Kíli told him. “And I think… I think he wouldn’t want you to have any regrets. That’s what he told you, right? That you shouldn’t regret how things panned out, because there was nothing to regret.”

Bilbo remembered that moment well, when his grandfather weakly squeezed his hand and spoke to him with a tired smile. How Gerontius was happy for him, despite all that had transpired. 

“And didn’t he say he was proud of you?” Kíli continued, and Bilbo sobbed before he could stop himself.

“Yeah,” He whimpered. “But I don’t know why…”

“Because you’re strong, happy, and alive, despite all that’s happened.” Kíli answered. “Because you faced your fears the moment you came back here, even with us. I think that’s why.”

Bilbo huffed, a smile tugging on his lips as Kíli pulled back enough to wipe his tears away.

“Although…” His cousin continued. “I don’t think he’ll be very happy, or proud, if he knew that this is what you’re doing to yourself. I think he’d even give you a kick in your arse, if he could.”

Now Bilbo laughed, unable to stop, and he noticed that Fíli was smiling at them.

“You’re right. He would kick my arse.” Bilbo conceded, sitting up. “I guess… I guess I should still work on making him proud, huh?”

Kíli grinned at him. “Yeah, but I don’t think you’ll have to work to hard.” He said. “Now, how about some supper? Dwalin’s cooking tonight, and he’s much better at it than Thorin.”

“Khagun has gotten better!” Bilbo stated in his defense. “Although… Now that you mention it, I am hungry.”

“I thought so.” Kíli replied with a grin, standing and pulling Bilbo to his feet. “Now, let’s get inside, warm up and eat.”

Bilbo nodded, allowing his cousin to lead him back to the smial, staying close when the wind picked up a little.

“Glad you managed to convince him to come in.” Fíli told them when they were close. “I don’t think the chill would be so tolerable for much longer.”

“It is unusally cold for this time of year.” Bilbo stated, frowning a little. “Let’s just hope the winter won’t be so bad.”

“It’s the Shire!” Kíli told him, even as they walked inside and shut the door. “How bad could a winter in the Shire be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It can be pretty bad, Kíli. Pretty damn bad.


	16. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin exchange letters.

_Bilbo,_

_I am sorry that you had to travel to the Shire for such a sad arrival, and of your grandfather’s passing. Gerontius was a good hobbit, a good man, and the world will miss him, as will I. I wish I could be there to comfort you during this time, but by the time you are reading this, Bofur and I would’ve just arrived at the Mountains, or we are close to them. Unfortunately, travel is hard this time of year, and the weather surprisingly brutal. I hope the Shire is faring better._

_Bofur doesn’t say, or show it, but I believe he is a little upset that we had to cut our trip short. Your Uncle is understanding, and we did enjoy what little time we spent there, but I can tell he wished we could’ve stayed longer. I have already made arrangements for the spring, but do not tell him that. I would tell you about our holiday, but I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it. What were the words you gave us? Something about “soppy old dwarves” and their “penchant for not keeping their hands to themselves”?_

_I hope this letter finds you in relatively good spirits. Do not try to travel to the mountains now. If anything, Bofur and I will come to you._

_With love,_

_Thorin_

**x**

_Thorin (and Bofur, since I’m sure you’re reading this as well),_

_I thank you for sparing me the details of your honeymoon (as the hobbits call it). While I am happy for you, there are certain things I never wish to know about your private life with Uncle._

_I too wish you were here, for I think my grandfather would’ve liked to see you one last time. I think he wanted to thank you for taking such good care of me, and for raising me to be who I am today. I thank you as well, for I wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be alive, if it weren’t for you. I think I don’t tell you that much these days, nor do I say such things to Uncle, but I shall try to say such things in the future._

_I apologize if I sound rather downtrodden. While I am still grieving, it isn’t as hard as it was. But winter has arrived sooner than we had predicted, and I don’t think that helps my spirits much. The farmers and their crops are taking it particularly hard, especially since they were not prepared for the early frosts. There is talk of little food, but I’m not too worried. I made sure to move a part of my own garden indoors, as you once instructed me to do. While what little I’ve managed to grow isn’t as good as it would be in the sun, they are still sustenance._

_Fíli and Kíli are behaving as well as their wont, despite spending most of their time being indoors with me. They have tried to venture out, perhaps to hunt or just explore, but they return shortly after leaving, complaining about the cold. I do not blame them. If anything, I laugh with Dwalin at their words. Speaking of Dwalin, he is being particularly helpful. Currently, he’s channeling what pent-up energy he has into fixing every lock and pipe in the house. Again. It will mark the third time he’s done so since our arrival._

_I wish you well, khagun. And don’t worry about us travelling. We don’t plan on leaving until the weather is at least somewhat tolerable._

_With love to both you and Uncle Bofur,_

_Bilbo_

**x**

_Bilbo,_

_Is food that scarce? Typically hobbits are rather good with their crops and predicting the weather to care for them properly. The fact that you’re resorting to such gardening methods worries me. Are you in that dire need for food already? I would send supplies, but the mountains barely have enough as it is. Our farmers aren’t nearly as diligent as the Shire’s, though I think we need to correct that as soon as the weather permits it._

_I am not surprised that my nephews are so anxious to go outside, nor that Dwalin is so restless. They are not used to such peace and quiet. But I am surprised that they aren’t out rough-housing in the snow._

_Do you remember the first winter you spent at the mountains, my Bilbo? I remember it fondly. The first time you played in the snow, and one of the first things you did was dive headfirst into a bank of it. I was terrified that you hurt yourself, but you burrowed your way out, laughing all the while. I should not have been worried, for Fíli always loved to do that. Yes, Fíli. Despite Kíli’s penchant for outrageously dangerous behavior, he first learned it from his brother._

_Of course, Dwalin was no better when we were young, and nor was I. When the snow was thick enough, we would jump off of one of the high balconies and fall quite a distance to the ground. The snow was soft enough that we did not hurt ourselves, but our parents nearly died of fright when they found us._

_But I am rambling, now, and Bofur wants me to finish this so we can hurry and make the post before sunset. I hope you are still well when this reaches you. We hope to secure better gear to travel to the Shire in a few week’s time, and from the sounds of things, we will be there before you know it._

_With love,_

_Thorin and Bofur, who’s about to kick your khagun’s arse if he doesn’t stop dithering_

**x**

_My worried papa,_

_I merely started the garden just to be safe. We were not desperate for food, merely cautious. And do not come to the Shire unless you think you really need to, which you do not at this point in time. I have heard how bad the weather is in the Mountains right now, and I don’t want you travelling through that mess._

_You need not worry over us, Thorin. We are well-stocked with food, fresh and preserved, medicines, and we also have Dwalin’s supreme plumbing installed. Although, I worry about the rest of the Shire. While things aren’t terrible, they aren’t good, either. And with such a start, I grow concerned for how it will continue on. I have a feeling it will be rather harsh, but I hope it won’t last long._

_On a higher note, I am concerned with the stories of your childhood. Only they instill fear in me that Dwalin will try to repeat such antics now, as the snow is collecting to quite massive amounts. If he were to start, then Fíli and Kíli will as well, and they don’t know where the large snow banks end and the snow-covered rocks begin. That, and they’ve just begun to settle down. I have a feeling the weight of this winter is sinking onto their shoulders, and that might be a big cause._

_My warmest regards to you and Uncle Bofur. Uncle, if you are reading this, make sure khagun doesn’t do anything stupid as to traverse through such weather. We aren’t in dire need here, and I would rather him be safe than be foolish. Tie him to the bed if you have to._

_With love,_

_Bilbo_

**x**

_My son,_

_I now know why I woke up this morning in fishermen’s knots. Your uncle took your words to heart, and now I have to suffer through rope burn and your Aunt Dis looking particularly smug for no good reason._

_I am glad that you are well-prepared for the winter. Do not leave the house after dark, and during the day, only if you have to. And make sure that the fire’s always going. All four of you sleep together in one bed, if you must. So long as you keep warm. And remember what Master Oin taught you about the differences between ointments and salves, and the importance of certain teas, and what medicinal herbs are better dried and which are better fresh._

_I still worry, though. I cannot help it, and neither can Bofur, though he will not say it aloud. It is the first time we are apart through the winter, and from the sound of things, it’s not a good one. I want nothing more to be there, and we are still planning to travel if we feel it is necessary. No buts, my flint. No buts._

_I hope you are still well, that Dwalin is taking care of you, and that your cousins have not driven you to lunacy yet._

_With love and warm regards to you all,_

_Thorin and Bofur_

**x**

_Khagun,_

_I wish things were better than they really were, and that I can tell you everything is fine. But while we are not desperate, nor in horrific danger, things aren’t as simple as they were before._

_Fíli has fallen ill. I think it is just a simple cold, so he should be fine in a few days, but I have teas and salves ready for when it isn’t. Our stores are a little more diminished than I would like, but the fault is entirely mine. Only, the Gamgees were running particularly low, and Hamfast is ill. I wish to do what I can to make sure he doesn’t end up like the others, which is the real problem._

_While we are fine here in Bag End, save for Fíli’s constant sniffles, not everyone in the Shire is as fortunate. Many of us are sick, and there are some who have even died. Even Torgo died, and that was most disheartening, for he was one of the few Sackvilles I liked. This winter has brought an illness with it, such the likes that hasn’t been seen in the Shire since... Well, to be truthful, I don’t think there has been a winter like this in the Shire ever._

_There is growing concern for our borders, though. Many have said they’ve seen wolves just a bit too close to our home for comfort. Some even say they see Orc, but that’s impossible. Even if it were, they cannot pass. The Brandywine is one of our largest, greatest natural defenses. It is one of the reasons why the Shire has lived in peace so long._

_So long as it doesn’t freeze over, but that won’t happen. The Brandywine has never frozen over, not completely at least._

_I only tell you all of this so I am not caught in a lie. I know it sounds dire, even I think so as I read this over, but things aren’t as bad as I have possibly made it out to be. Do not come to the Shire, for I’m sure things aren’t much better outside our borders. We are fine, and I remembered to bring with me the sword you gave me for my nineteenth birthday, just in case. I will not use it unless I have to, and I don’t think I will._

_Do not worry too much over us. We will be fine. But please stay home, khagun. Please stay safe. That is all I ask from both you and Uncle Bofur._

_Stay safe, both of you._

_Love,_

_Bilbo_

**x**

_Bilbo,_

_We are coming whether you like it or not._

_All the love in the world,_

_Bofur and Thorin, who is trying to leave without me, the clot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUUUUUUUUUN


	17. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Kíli face the storm.
> 
> It goes as well as one might expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably so many inaccuracies going on, and I'm sorry.
> 
> I'm also sorry that it's been a while! Life's been kinda hectic, lately, despite me being basically back to full health. Here, have this chapter as compensation. It's probably not the best, but it's action-filled.
> 
> Also raising the rating because I keep meaning to do that, but _whoops_.

_Thorin and Bofur,_

_I have not received anymore letters from you, so I hope things are alright. I have a feeling that it might’ve gotten lost, and I dare not think how that happened._

_Fíli’s cold took a turn for the worse for a while, with a fever and a horrid cough. But as I write this, his fever has broken and his cough, though still bad, is much better than it was. Also, did I not tell you I feared that Dwalin would try a repeat of what you did as children? Granted, it wasn’t on purpose, but he was on the roof trying to repair Mahal knows what, and he wound up falling right outside the door. He wasn’t too terribly injured, but he won’t be walking for a while yet. Your “bravest warrior” just has a terribly sprained ankle. Kíli and I are still healthy and uninjured, so that’s a blessing. So was the news we received earlier this week: The rangers are coming with supplies. Which is a good thing, because even we are starting to run low on food. I just wish that was the only reason they were coming._

_Now, do not panic, khagun, but the Brandywine has frozen over, and there have been reports of wolf attacks and more orc sightings that one can shake a sword at. But do not worry, for they only seem to come out during the night, and we’ve all been ordered to stay indoors at that time. Our homes are hard to spot, especially with so much snow on the ground, so we do not fear them bashing the doors in._

_So do not worry. Please, stay in the mountains. Please do not come here. We will be fine, and our home shall be even further secured once the Rangers arrive._

_I repeat: Don’t come to the Shire. I shall be very cross if you do._

_With love and hopes that you’re smart enough to not travel in this weather,_

“Bilbo?”

He turned from his letter to look at Kíli, who was standing at the door. His cousin looked a little concerned, so he sent him a smile. “Yes?” He asked, rubbing at his face. “What is it?”

“You’ve been in here since lunch, and skipped tea.” Kíli answered. 

“Well, I wasn’t that hungry, so-.”

“Liar.” Kíli cut in, arms crossed. “I know for a fact that you’re purposely skipping meals to stretch supplies. That’s not healthy.”

“Neither is letting my family starve.” Bilbo snipped back. “I am fine without a meal here and there, Kíli. And I have to, if we want to stretch our supplies long enough for the Rangers to get here on time.”

“Not by that much.” His cousin countered, stepping over and peering at the letter he was writing. “Writing to Uncle Thorin and Uncle Bofur again?”

“Yes.” Bilbo replied, putting his quill aside and closing the ink well. “Hopefully they’ll get it.”

“Maybe they’re not there to get it.” Kíli pressed and Bilbo frowned.

“They better. Bad enough we’re separated from this blasted weather. I do not need khagun running through the snow and freezing to death because he’s fretting.” He groused, closing up the letter and sealing it. “I just-!”

They were interrupted by a shout from the sitting room, where Fíli and Dwalin were currently resting. Bilbo immediately launched from his chair and followed Kíli through the halls, only to squawk himself when he saw Dwalin trying to stand on his feet.

“What part of ‘no pressure’ do you not understand!?” He snapped as he stomped over and began pushing Dwalin back into the chair.

“The fire was dying.” The warrior growled out, face turning pink as he sat back, Bilbo gently lifting his injured limb to rest on the ottoman. “Someone needed to stoke the flames.”

“I’ve got it!” Kíli proclaimed as he put more wood on the flames and stoking it. “You should’ve just called for us instead of getting up. I mean, look at what you did to Fíli!”

Bilbo turned and winced as Fíli held a hand up to his mouth, wheezing and flushed with laughter. He sounded better than he did yesterday, but he was still far too sick.

“Not my fault he laughs at everything.” Dwalin grumped, not even fighting when Bilbo pulled the blanked back over him. “This is ridiculous anyway. Why do we have to just sit back and let you lot make sure we don’t freeze to death?”

“How do you think I feel?” Fíli cut in, voice raspy. “I’ve been stuck on this bloody sofa for days!”

“At least you’re not killing yourselves.” Bilbo cut in as he stood up. “Now, can I trust you lot to behave? I have errands to run.”

All three dwarves froze, looking at Bilbo as if he were mad.

“Errands? Now?” Dwalin asked. “Lad, it’s almost sunset!”

“You aren’t going to send the letter out now, are you?” Kíli asked. “That can wait!”

“This has nothing to do with the letter.” Bilbo answered. “But I’m low on the herb that I use for Fíli’s tea, and I know Hamfast and his family still has plenty from when he was ill.”

“I don’t need it, though.” Said dwarf protested. “Really. I’m fine!”

“You’ve still got a lot in your lungs, Fee. I don’t want to risk it.” Bilbo stated, already grabbing his sword and strapping it to his hip. “I won’t be gone for long. Just down the road and all that, so I’ll be back in time for supper. Kíli, watch them and make sure they don’t do anything stupid?”

“No.”

Bilbo frowned at his youngest cousin as he stood and marched down the hall. “Why not?”

“I’m going with you!”

“Wha-? Kíli!” Bilbo sputtered. “You can’t! What if something happens and they need help?”

“We’ll be fine.” Dwalin answered, even as Kíli walked back in in full gear. “Besides, if you’re going to be reckless enough to go out there so close to dark, someone needs to make sure that you’ll be protected.”

Bilbo huffed, crossing his arms. “I can take care of myself.”

“Not against orcs and wolves, Bilbo.” Kíli said. “You’re not a warrior, and you’ve said so before. You need someone to watch your back. So, please let me go with you.”

He swallowed roughly, for it was a rare thing for his cousin to demand anything, let alone say “please”. And while there had only been some sightings and a couple attacks, Bilbo knew deep within is gut that it was going to get worse, and soon. Very soon, if his luck said anything.

Eventually, he sighed, going to where his family kept their weapons and armaments, grabbing one of Fíli’s swords and one of Dwalin’s axes. He came back and easily gave the weapons to their respective owners.

“If you two are going to be alone, you need to protect yourself.” He said. “But don’t do anything stupid. Fíli, don’t exert yourself. Dwalin, try to keep off your feet as much as possible. I don’t want either of you to get worse off than you already are, do you hear me?”

“As long as you are careful, too.” Dwalin stated, his heavy hand on the back of Bilbo’s neck as he guiding their foreheads together. “Don’t be reckless. Stay as safe as possible.”

“You too, Kee.” Fíli spoke up as Kíli made sure his brother was comfortable. “Both of you, be careful and come back as soon as you can.”

“We will.” Kíli replied, taking Bilbo’s hand when he was close enough as they headed for the door, taking their cloaks and wares so they were properly protected from the snow.

Bilbo couldn’t help but finger his sword’s handle as opened the door and braved the cold.

‘I just hope,’ He thought, ‘That we’ll have no use for these.’

**x**

The roads were surprisingly empty and quiet as they walked. Usually there would be someone else outside, even if it was dusk and so close to sunset and danger creeping in. It was unnerving, but Bilbo did his best to push it out of his mind. For they needed to hurry if they wanted to get back to Bag End in time without drawing too much attention. 

“Aulë, it’s freezing! Not even the mountains get this cold!” Kíli hissed, bumping shoulders as they walked close together. “Why did you wait to do this now, of all times?”

“The storm was terribly brutal earlier.” Bilbo reminded him. “Even at noon, the winds would’ve whipped us away.”

“At least it would’ve been warmer!”

“Yes, but that wouldn’t get us to the Gamgees sooner, now would it?”

His cousin did little more than grumble the rest of the way to the Gamgee’s smial. He knocked, for bells made too much noise these days, and waited for someone to open the door.

Thankfully, it was Hamfast. 

“Ah, Bilbo, Kíli, good evening.” He greeted, peering through the door. “Here for the herb you asked for, finally?”

“Indeed.” Bilbo replied, wincing a little. “Sorry it took so long. It’s just-.”

“The weather, I know.” Hamfast cut in, frowning. “I hope it lets up, soon. Good news is that there’s bound to be an early spring, though.”

“I hope so.” Kíli groused, eyes ever watchful on the roads and causing Hamfast to chuckle. 

“Well, here.” He stated, disappearing for a moment before sticking his hand out and depositing a small bag into Bilbo’s waiting hands. “Would you like to come in? We’re just about to have dinner.”

“We can’t.” Bilbo said, voice strained. “My cousin and Dwalin, they need us.”

“Understood.” Hamfast replied, slowly closing the door. “I’d hurry home, Bilbo. It’s about sunset, now.”

“Of course. Have a good evening!”

“You as well. Send my best wishes to Fíli and Dwalin. Oh, and-.”

“I hate to break up the conversation,” Kíli cut in. “But Dwalin’s bound to’ve broken his ankle by now with Fíli’s cough.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t.” Bilbo groused, waving at Hamfast and looking a little apologetic as his friend merely nodded and shut the door. “Come on, then. Back home for us. I’m actually quite hungry.”

“I’m not surprised.” Kíli said, grabbing Bilbo’s arm and practically dragging him along. “I’m going to make sure you eat tonight, cousin. And plenty! No more starving on us for you, Bilbo Baggins.”

“Honestly, Kee. I’m not starving!” He argued, not even fighting his cousin’s grip. “I can easily live off of just three meals. Even two! I-!”

Bilbo was cut off when Kíli pulled him aside, making sure he was firmly standing behind him.

“What? What is it?” He asked, even as Kíli shushed him.

“Look, but be quiet.” He whispered, and Bilbo peered over Kíli’s shoulder and immediately felt sick.

The snow, which was pristine and white save for their footprints, was marred with splatters of blood.

“Someone’s hurt.” Bilbo muttered. “But how? It’s not even sunset!”

“They’re getting bolder.” Kíli replied, grabbing Bilbo’s arm firmly and tugging him onwards. “Now, come on. We have to hurry home.”

“B-But wait!” He argued, tugging away from Kíli’s grip. “Someone’s hurt, Kíli. They could still be alive! We have to help them!”

“Yes, but it’s quiet, Bilbo. And there’s only two reasons why it would be quiet.” Kíli told him. “One is that… that they’re dead…”

“Okay…” Bilbo replied, waiting for his cousin to continue. “And the other?”

“They’re alive, hurt, but their attacker is still close.” 

The ill feeling got worse as Bilbo bit his lip. “We need to at least see, Kee.” He told him. “We can’t leave them to die on their own. Please?”

He watched as Kíli flinched, for if begging made Bilbo do what his cousins wanted, the inverse was true as well. Even moreso, for he never asked for much. It wasn’t in his nature. 

Eventually, the dwarf sighed, grabbing his bow and nocking an arrow. “We need to keep quiet, and stay on guard.”

Bilbo would’ve smiled if the situation were different. Instead, he made sure the bag was secure before drawing his sword. “Right.”

With that, he crept along, staying behind Kíli as the archer followed the blood and kicked-up snow. Eventually, he stopped, and Bilbo felt dread pool in his stomach when he saw how his cousin stiffened. He dared to look, only to instantly regret it.

It was one of the Shirriffs, that was for sure. They were dead, or at least he hoped they were. One of his poor legs were a little distance away, completely torn from his body, as a wolf hovered over him. It sounded like it was eating, but Bilbo didn’t want to dwell on that fact for too long. The situation was worse than he thought, for either the rest of this wolf’s pack was not far off, or it was a lone one. He almost hoped for the latter.

He was jolted from his thoughts when he felt Kíli elbow him. His eyes were wide, desperate and almost fearful. “ _Go_.” He mouthed. “ _Go_!”

Bilbo grabbed his cousin’s arm with a clear message of his own. “ _Not without you._ ”

Kíli seemed quite alright with that, letting Bilbo lead him away from the gruesome scene, not once turning away from the wolf. Both were muttering a silent prayer for the Shirriff. Hoping that their death wasn’t too painful. All the while keeping as quiet as possible.

The wolf noticed them, anyway.

It rounded on them, snarling, its jowls dripping red. Bilbo felt frozen in place, hands numb around his sword, and he couldn’t move out of the way as it began to pounce.

Thankfully, Kíli wasn’t so frozen, for he shot it in the head before it could get close. Bilbo shuddered, feeling his body thrum as he heard Kíli let out a breath, lowering his bow.

Their relief was short-lived when the howls and screeches reached their ears.

Kíli grabbed Bilbo, and he didn’t fight his grasp.

“ _Run_!”


	18. A Wizard, Rangers, and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... Oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE GUYS HAVE A CHAPTER! Sorry that it's been a while.

Thorin despised taking breaks to rest or camp. Not just because the weather was increasingly worse as they travelled, but the more he sat in one place, the longer it took to reach the Shire. He had a feeling Bofur felt the same way, but of course he still insisted on it. 

“No point in running ourselves and our ponies ragged.” He said once. “What good would we be to them if that were the case?”

In truth, Bofur had quite the valid point. He didn’t like it, but he knew that going to help his little flint would be useless if they were practically half-dead from exhaustion if they went in the pace Thorin wanted. So yes, he would concede to rest despite his instincts screaming at him to do otherwise.

However, there was a difference between rest and joining a party. Currently, Thorin felt like he was in the latter. Though, really, when one is asked to join the Grey Wizard by the fire, it wasn’t considered wise to turn him down. 

It was an interesting turn of events, for sure, for while he had heard of Tharkûn (or “Gandalf” as some called him), he never met him. Usually, it was seen as unlucky, for someone was bound to be roped into some strange deed by the wizard in question. It was usually the only reason one met him. Still, Thorin and Bofur both put on a kind face, especially since Gandalf was joined by Rangers. A lot of them, even. That coupled with how close they were to the Shire concerned Thorin a little. Still, he decided to bury his concerns aside and did his best to be cordial. For if it was bad to encounter a wizard, it was even worse to anger him.

It was all well and good, and Thorin felt that he was doing rather well, until one of the rangers approached Tharkûn.

“We’re packing up to head out.” They said. “We need to get going now if we want to reach the Shire before nightfall.”

“The Shire?” Bofur asked once Tharkûn was finished and the Ranger went back to packing. “Well, what a coincidence! We’re headed that way ourselves!”

Thorin almost cursed his husband out for revealing such information, but Tharkûn interrupted him, brow creased heavily.

“Heading for the Shire, are you?” He asked. “Such a trip is not wise this time of year.”

“That may be so,” Thorin answered, quite used to such responses. “But we’re heading there regardless.”

He didn’t want to explain himself. Didn’t want to tell the daft wizard that his family was there, for it was no one’s business but his own. It didn’t matter what Tharkûn had to say about it, anyway. 

Still, the wizard’s eyes narrowed further. “Thorin Oakenshield, whilst your kind’s stubbornness is a valued trait, I’m afraid I must warn you against such a trip.” He replied. “There are plenty of other paths to the Mountains, if that’s where you’re headed.”

Thorin frowned, for it didn’t sound good. He could tell Bofur was feeling the same way. “We know,” He stated, voice a tad firmer than what was probably warranted. “However, the mountains are not our destination. The Shire is.”

“Whatever trades you have with the hobbits there are sure not that important.” Tharkûn continued. “Sure they can wait until the… weather is more bearable.”

“It is true that trading now is a rather foolish endeavor.” He said, sitting a bit straighter. “But that is not why we’re going there.”

“Why does it matter?” Bofur cut in, frowning. “Why are you so vehement with us about this, Tharkûn?”

Something shuttered across the wizard’s eyes. Something sad and pained.

“It is a dark time for the Shire, Master Bofur.” He replied. “Wolves and Orc are encroaching on the people there.”

“We know, but that’s not deterring us.” Bofur stated. “Besides, the Brandywine is-.”

“Frozen over.” Tharkûn cut in, and those words made something hard and cold settled in both Thorin and Bofur’s bellies. “The Shire’s one defense is down. It is why I’m going there with the Rangers. To provide defense and supplies. Though I do hope they won’t be too desperately needed. Wolves and Orc might enter their land, but hobbits are smart. They-.”

Thorin had stood, then, though Bofur was already marching across the snow to their ponies before he could even think about doing so. 

He knew he should’ve left for the Shire sooner. Should’ve ignored his flint’s protests in those regards. For what if that was the reason they hadn’t heard word from them for so long? Mahal forbid such dark thoughts about his family, but what if they were too late?

“Thorin, I must protest!” Tharkûn argued, following him. “We will be able to provide what they need. While I value your desires to aid them yourself, I must inform you that it’s a terrible idea!”

“Do not preach to me on desires to aid, Tharkûn!” He growled. “I am not doing this, my husband and I are not doing this, just for some small amount of glory or to create better ties with the Shire! I have no need for those to begin with!”

“Then why are you going!?”

“ _Because my family’s there_!” He roared, seething, and he watched the wizard’s expression melt into shock. “My shield brother, my nephews, and my _son_ are in the Shire, and I refuse to leave them defenseless! I refuse to just sit on my laurels when they could die! My son, he… He has been through so much, and I refuse to let him go through anymore without my support!”

“I apologize for not realizing that you have family there, Thorin Oakenshield.” Tharkûn answered after a slight pause. “But please, at least wait for us. None of us know what await us in the Shire, now!”

“I will not wait until I know my flint and my sister-sons are whole and hale!” He snapped, and before Tharkûn could protest any further, he was rushing off. 

He had already dilly-dallied far too much. Now, he needed desperately to get to the Shire, now more than ever. 

Despite knowing what Bofur was doing, he was still pleasantly surprised to see Bofur already saddled up, his own pony awaiting him.

“Took you long enough.” He replied as Thorin got onto his pony. 

“We need to hurry…” He started, but Bofur was already grabbing his reigns.

“I know, love, I know.” Bofur said. “We’ll get there in time. I know we will.”

Thorin didn’t reply. He merely commanded his pony to go into a flying gallop with Bofur only a step behind.

For really, all he could’ve said to Bofur return was his hope, and he was too busy focusing that on something else.

 _Please_ , He prayed, _Please let my family be safe…_

**x**

If Bilbo didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought Kíli was trying to tear his arm off with the grip he had and the pace he was going. But he did know better, and even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t care. For he would still be running for his life with his cousin as the sounds of battle were growing closer. 

They had to let go of each other’s hands when more wolves showed up, and Bilbo hated having to behead one, but they were a lot better than Orc, if what Thorin and Dwalin used to say about them were true. Sadly, they weren’t the only wolves that crossed their path after dealing with the first. 

“This is madness!” Kíli hissed once the last wolf dropped dead. “It’s like we’re walking with meat belts!”

“We need to keep moving regardless!” Bilbo stated. “We can’t just-!”

What words he would’ve spoken devolved into a scream when pain lanced through his leg. He didn’t hear Kíli call out to him, only collapsed onto his side in the snow, paling when he saw an arrow going through his thigh.

There was a screeching from up above, and Bilbo only saw the Orc for a second before Kíli shot them down. Of course, right after, he knelt next to him and moved to touch the arrow, only causing more pain.

“Bilbo, _please_!” Kíli hissed as he flinched away. “Lie still! I need to look!”

“There’s not much to look at besides a bloody _arrow_ sticking out of my leg!” Bilbo snapped, barking in pain when he heard a snap as Kíli went to work on removing said “bloody” arrow. 

“This is not good…” Kíli muttered, tossing the broken shaft aside and easing the rest of it out before quickly moving to tie it up with his scarf. “Orc weapons are notorious for causing infections, particularly arrows. You’re lucky that it doesn’t seem to be poisoned.”

“We need to keep moving, then…” Bilbo grunted out once Kíli was done. 

“Just what I was thinking.” He answered, moving to pull Bilbo up. “We need to get back to Bag End and-!”

“No!” Bilbo cried. “No, not Bag End! We can’t go back there now!”

“Okay, not what I was thinking.” Kíli told him, frowning. “I mean, Bilbo, you’re hurt! We need to go back and patch you up properly!”

More howls and screeches rang through the air, followed by screams of innocent people trying to fight them off. They were far off, and not in the direction of Bag End, but Bilbo still paled at the sound.

“Don’t you hear that, Kee?” He hissed. “There’s more where that came from! If we try to go back to Bag End, they’ll be sure to follow us! We can’t just lead danger to our doorstep, or we’ll be trapped!”

Kíli cursed, for he knew his cousin had a point. “Then what do we do?”

“We head for the woods, to the outskirts!” Bilbo told him, grunting as he began to push himself up, stumbling into Kíli’s hold as he helped. “Maybe we can lead them away, lose them, and then circle back!”

“That’s a terrible idea!”

“What else can we do?”

Kíli bit his lip, staring at Bilbo’s pleading face before nodding sharply. “Not much else.” He said. “Lean on me, and duck for cover if real trouble comes.”

“I’m not ducking if you’re going to be an idiot and fight them on your own!” Bilbo told him as they began to hobble away, slowly picking up speed as they went. 

“Bilbo Baggins, if you die, I will not stop Thorin from trying to kill you again!” Kíli growled, brandishing a sword.

“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?”

“Do you _really_ want to argue about that now!?”

Bilbo didn’t, not really, but anything was better than hearing Orc and wolves tear through wooden doors, crash through windows, and start what could only be a slaughter. He couldn’t help but think running was the safest option instead of arguing semantics, even though all he could really do was hobble. 

“When we get out of this, I’m talking to the person who invented the bow and arrows and whacking them upside the head!” He cursed. “No offense, Kíli.”

“None taken.” Kíli quipped, yanking them into the shadows as they watched a few wolves leap from a roof and dash off. “But we need to keep quiet!”

They did, as well as they could when one was injured and possibly still bleeding and the other was forced to drag their cousin through the snow. The screeching became louder, and Bilbo felt himself pale.

“Kíli-!”

“I know.”

“Kíli, I think they’re following us-!”

“ _I know_!”

They didn’t make to the woods, barely reaching the outskirts before the Orcs descended. Bilbo had pushed Kíli away before one tackled him, barely managing to drive his sword through its belly before it could try to do the same. He didn’t have time to get back up. To see how Kíli was managing, though he heard his cousins strained cries over the rush of blood in his ears as another came for the attack, and Bilbo realized with a dawning horror that it almost seemed like the entire hoard had followed them. 

He managed to fight a few off before one landed a solid blow to the back of his head, sending his mind spinning as be barely noted his cousin calling out for him. 

_This is it_ , He thought idly as an Orc readied for a fatal blow. _This is where it all ends_ …

He couldn’t help but think of his childhood at that moment. Of a dwarf that sprung from the bushes and gave him a bacon biscuit to eat. Of that dwarf taking him in and caring for him. Of finding a father in that dwarf that he thought he’d lost due to illness not even two years prior. Of finding a family amongst a race that wasn’t his own, and always surprised at how much they loved him. Of Dwalin’s willingness to have him seated in his lap whilst he told stories. Of Fíli’s and Kíli’s pranks and games. Of Bofur’s soot-laced hugs, Bombur’s cakes, and Bifur’s toys. 

Of Thorin.

He just hoped his father wouldn’t be too angry at him. And that was what Thorin was to him: A father. Not quite his old da, the one he vaguely remembered, but his father just the same.

As he had just begun to hope that his death wouldn’t be too painful, a loud voice tore through the sounds of carnage. A voice he didn’t dare to think he’d hear ever again.

“ _You will not hurt my son!_ ”


	19. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is none too pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much I can say about this, except enjoy!

To say that Thorin felt satisfaction upon beheading the orc that was standing over the prone form of Bilbo would be an understatement.

He had expected to come across the orcs and wolves that were rampaging the Shire while he was trying to reach Bag End, but he certainly didn’t expect to see Bilbo and Kíli both near the woods he was rushing through on foot not moments before. Abandoning his pony once he heard the shrieks, howls, and screams after telling Bofur to head towards their son’s home. Because that was what Bilbo was, ever since he saw his tiny, frail form when he was a mere child: His son. 

Thorin knew that he would have to scold both his son and nephew once this was all over, but he was more preoccupied by the small collection of orcs that were nearby.

“Thorin…?” He heard Bilbo mumble softly from the ground as he stood over him, brandishing both his sword and shield of oak. 

“You are in big trouble.” He growled back. “But right now, you need to stay-.”

He was cut off when one of the orcs shrieked, turning to see Bofur drive his mattock into its skull before helping Kili up off the ground. 

“I thought I told you to head for Bag End?” He asked, even as his husband moved to stand by him.

“And leave you to fight them off on your own? Not a chance.” Bofur replied, hefting his bloody weapon as he looked towards Kíli. “Are you hurt?”

“No…” Kíli answered, swallowing. “Uncle, I-.”

“Not now.” Thorin cut in. “You are in trouble, but we’re not discussing it now.”

“I know, but-.” Kíli started before his eyes widened. “Watch out!”

It seemed that the orcs were done just standing around, for they charged. As Thorin cut through any who tried to get at either him or Bilbo, he was thankful. For these were nowhere near as strong as the orcs he fought in Moria. Glad that Bofur and Kíli seemed to be handling themselves well as a nagging feeling entered him when Bilbo didn’t even try to move.

“We have to go.” Bofur stated once the last had fallen, and a few survivors had scattered. “Tharkûn and the Rangers aren’t far behind, and we need to get back to Bag End.”

“I-.”

“Father…?”

Something cold struck through Thorin, even as he immediately turned and knelt by Bilbo’s form. His leg was injured, for he saw Kíli scarf tied to his leg tightly, and there was blood dampening his curls when the snow didn’t. 

“Not your father, Bilbo.” He whispered, daring to brush a few curls from his forehead. “It’s Thorin, your khagûn.”

“I know who you are, Thorin.” Bilbo insisted, voice strong yet cracking. “You’re my father, who found me. My father, who raised me…”

He felt his eyes sting as Bilbo spoke, for all the years they spent together as a family, Bilbo never called him _father_. Papa, yes, and khagûn when he became too old to call him the Westron version comfortably, but never _father_. 

“Did I not tell you to stay in Ered Luin?”

Thorin couldn’t help but huff at Bilbo’s demand. “Aren’t you glad I didn’t?”

Bilbo chuckled a little, wincing when it jostled his injuries, and Thorin did his best to soothe him.

“The Rangers are here…” Bofur told him, and Thorin did hear the sounds of Men, with their horses, arrows, and swords. “We need to go.”

“Cover me, then.” Thorin replied, not even bothering to ask if Bilbo could stand. Scooping him up into his arms after making sure his weapon and shield were secure. “Now.”

They moved as quickly as they could so as not to aggravate Bilbo’s injuries. Thankfully, most of the orcs and wolves didn’t seem very interested in them, rushing off to either flee or fight the Rangers. Bofur and Kíli both handled those who tried to attack them, even those that were clawing at the large, round green door they were all so familiar with.

The door opened before they could try, greeted by Dwalin, holding one of his axes and leaning heavily on the doorframe.

“About time you lot showed up…” He started, eyes widening when he saw Bilbo. “What happened?”

“Orcs happened.” Thorin told his friend as he moved around him.

Dwalin had cursed, letting Bofur and Kíli in before slamming the door. “I knew I should’ve gone with them.”

“Not with that ankle!” Bofur stated. “I can see it swelling from here!”

“Lock the door.” Thorin told them. “And Mahal’s sake, Dwalin, sit back down!”

Dwalin growled, but he didn’t care, moving through the sitting room to get to Bilbo’s bedroom.

“Uncle?”

Thorin froze, seeing Fíli propping himself up on the sofa, swathed with blankets and looking pale. 

“Fíli…” He started, only for Kíli to cut him off. 

“He’s fine, Uncle. Just a cold.” He explained, reaching to Bilbo’s form in Thorin’s arms to pull a satchel off his belt. “We have his medicine.”

“What happened to Bilbo?” Fíli pressed, trying to sit up more. “Did he get hurt? All because of my medicine?”

“He’ll be fine.” Thorin managed out before turning to his youngest nephew. “Kíli, take care of him. Excuse me.”

With that, he rushed onward down the hall, kicking the bedroom door open when he was close enough. He placed Bilbo onto the bed before gently untying the scarf around his leg, wincing when he saw it. Orc weapons were notorious: rusty and toxic, able to quickly start and spread an infection if you’re hit by one. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Bilbo told him softly. “That, and it could be worse.”

“Don’t even say such things.” Thorin scolded, removing his outerwears and rolling up his sleeves.

“Don’t be mad at me, father.” Bilbo continued softly after a few brief moments. “I… I needed to go out… I needed to get Fíli’s herbs for his medicine… I didn’t want anymore of my family to _die_ …”

“I’m not mad at you, Bilbo…” He soothed. “I just wish you didn’t fight them. You are not meant for war, Bilbo. No blades or violence. I never wanted this to happen.”

“Well…” Bilbo muttered, smiling faintly. “Aren’t you glad I asked for lessons now, then?”

Thorin huffed a laugh before he could stop himself, only for it to die down immediately when Bilbo’s eyes fluttered.

“No…” He breathed, touching any part of his son that wouldn’t hurt him as his eyes closed. “No, Bilbo, don’t go to sleep. I know you’re tired, but you can’t sleep right now. You have to stay awake, Bilbo! Bilbo, wake up! Bilbo! _Bilbo_!”

But he didn’t wake. Didn’t move, didn’t react at all to Thorin’s words. Bilbo just kept his eyes closed, breaths shallow, _too_ shallow. Thorin’s eyes blurred with tears as he floundered helplessly, needing to heal his boy, but unsure as to how to do it.

“Thorin…”

Said dwarf turned to see Bofur at the door. Bofur, and someone far too tall to be standing in a hobbit’s smial.

“Who are you?” He demanded, seeing a damp, dirtied face tilt down into view, and he knew it was one of the Rangers.

“I am here to help those who are injured.” The Ranger responded. “Is there-?”

“My son!” Thorin immediately cut in, motioning to the bed. “P-Please… You have to help my son…”

The Ranger’s face was a mixture of grim and confused, but he stepped into the room all the same. “I’ll do what I can.” 

Despite the confidence in their voice, Thorin feared that it wouldn’t be enough.


	20. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin waits. Or at least, he does his own version of waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Another chapter! Probably not the best, but hopefully they'll get better soon!
> 
> Also, poor Dwalin. Just... Poor Dwalin...

Thorin followed Bofur back into the sitting room, and he took in the scene before him. Fíli was sipping something warm in a mug with a tight expression on his face that was laced with guilt. Dwalin was in a chair with his leg elevated, glaring at the fireplace. And Kíli was sitting next to his brother, curled in on himself.

Kíli…

He marched right up to his youngest nephew, causing everyone to look at them. 

Kíli’s expression was pained. “Uncle…”

“What were you thinking?” He demanded. “I want to know why you thought it was a good idea to go out so late at night.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle!” Kíli cried. “Believe me, I tried to convince Bilbo it was a bad idea. We all did!”

“He’s right.” Fíli cut in. “Uncle, if anything, it’s my fault that he-!”

“ _Don’t_.” Thorin cut in, still staring at Kíli. “Why couldn’t you wait until tomorrow? Why not go earlier?”

“The storm made it too dangerous to go out any earlier, and we couldn’t wait until tomorrow! We needed to get Fíli’s herbs!” He explained. “Please, Uncle, we didn’t know the wolves would be in the Shire before sunset! We were as careful as we could’ve been!”

“Clearly you weren’t, for you still left!” Thorin scolded, and Kíli winced.

“I…” Kíli whimpered. “I’m sorry… I should’ve insisted we wait longer, or gone by myself, or-.”

“ _Enough_.” Thorin hissed, and when Kíli flinched, something sharp and painful went through him. Imagining Kíli and Bilbo trying to sneak around the Shire to avoid them. Of them getting attacked and shot at. Of what could’ve happened if they didn’t get there on time. Of what could’ve been prevented if he had arrived _earlier_.

He knelt down in front of Kíli, making his youngest nephew meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He breathed, holding his hand up to silence any protests. “I should not have yelled at you, but you have to understand that this could’ve been prevented if you had _waited_.”

“Bilbo wanted-!”

“I know, and he will get a scolding of his own too.” Thorin continued. “Right now, I just want to make sure you knew what you did was risky, and that I hope you don’t do it again, because if there’s a next time you might not be so lucky.”

Kíli nodded, and Thorin grasped the back of his neck to bring their foreheads together. “You are all precious to me.” He whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to any of you…”

As Kíli shuddered, he looked at Fíli, who was glaring into the mug in his hands as his bottom lip trembled fiercely. As gently as he could, he coaxed his eldest forward, bringing all their foreheads together and embracing them both.

“And Fíli, it is _not_ your fault.” He stated. “This is no one’s fault.”

His nephews hugged him fiercely then, and he was aware of the comforting presence of his husband bending over to join them. 

All the while, Dwalin tried to hide sparse tears of frustration as he also tried to maneuver out of his seat to get out of the room.

“Don’t you dare move.” Bofur immediately scolded, and the broke apart to send the warrior a look. “I don’t know how you hurt your ankle in the first place, but I’m not letting you make it worse!”

“Yes, Master Dwalin,” Fíli stated, grinning as Kíli tried to hide his laughter with a cough. “How did you injure your ankle?”

Dwalin glared at them. “It doesn’t matter.” He snapped, and Thorin quirked an eyebrow.

“Reliving childhood memories, Dwalin?” He couldn’t help but ask, causing his nephews to laugh and Bofur to snort. Dwalin’s growl only made them laugh harder.

“Oh yes, I see how it is!” Dwalin snarled, sinking into his seat in defeat. “Laughing at my own… expense…”

The warrior had stopped glaring at them to focus his attention towards the hall. Thorin looked as well, seeing the Ranger stepping into the sitting room. He immediately rushed towards him, Bofur close behind.

“How is he?” Thorin asked.

“Lucky.” The Ranger replied gravely. “His head wound was more superficial than it seemed, and the arrow that pierced his thigh didn’t hit anything too important. He might have some dizzy spells for a little while, and it might take him a while to walk without too much of a limp. He will live, however. That is what’s important.”

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, Thorin’s knees growing slightly weak as he clasped one of Bofur’s hands in his own.

“Thank you.” He breathed. “Truly, thank you.”

“Just doing my job.” The Ranger stated, moving towards the entrance. “I must go, now. There are others that need my aid. Is there anyone else that needs help before I go?”

“Brother…” Kíli started, but Fíli shook his head.

“I’ll be alright.” He stated. “I’ve got the medicine I need.”

“Dwalin?” Bofur asked, but said dwarf sent him a pointed look. 

“I’ll be _fine_.” He replied, sending the Ranger a glare when they gazed at his ankle. “I’ve had plenty worse.”

“Be that as it may, a simple salve will help a great deal with the swelling.” They told him, pulling out a small pot from his pocket and resting it on one of the arms of Dwalin’s chair. “Just apply as needed.”

With that, the Ranger grabbed his cloak and moved to open the door, only to pause to send them a look.

“Be careful with him.” They stated. “He doesn’t need a lot of excitement.”

“We will be.” Thorin assured, and the Ranger nodded.

“Your son is brave, Master Dwarves.” They commented, and Thorin felt a small swell of pride. “Good Evening.”

As soon as the Ranger was gone, Thorin immediately rushed off into the direction of Bilbo’s room, Bofur not far behind. He knew that the others would want to see Bilbo, but right now, Thorin felt more desperate. For he wanted to make sure that his son was _alive_.

Despite the rush to get there, they were gentle in opening the door to the warm, darkened room. Bilbo was in the middle of a swathe of blankets, his injured leg elevated and his head slightly propped up. Both covered in white cloth bandages as his expression read that of merely a peaceful slumber. 

They both took a seat on either side of the bed, Bofur removing his hat to rest it on the nearby nightstand. The moment there was a dip in the mattress, Bilbo stirred.

“Father…?” Bilbo murmured sleepily. “Father, Pa, is that you…?”

“Pa…” Bofur breathed, eyes bright. “Did he just call me ‘pa’…?”

Thorin ignored his husband for the moment, taking one of Bilbo’s hands in his. 

“Don’t worry, my son.” Thorin soothed, smiling through relieved tears. “We’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think they'll be just a few more feel-filled chapters before the end, everybody. Also, what do you think of Bofur being Bilbo's "pa"? I'm not sure I like it. Makes it sound very old. I dunno, it might change.

**Author's Note:**

> Set forth for feels!


End file.
